


Secrets and Spies, Truths and Lies

by NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable



Series: SSTL 'Verse [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Action, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Spies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:51:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7496310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable/pseuds/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CIA hacker Emma Swan is paired up with MI6 agents Liam and Killian Jones on a dangerous mission to track down an ex-spy who’s hunting and killing agents from both countries.  She thinks she has all the information they need to catch the defector, but sometimes the past is buried where even her expert computer skills can’t uncover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> My first AU! Eep! I'm so nervous!
> 
> While this is going to be (I think, at least) a fun adventure, this will contain some darker elements, hence the M rating. If you cannot stomach violence or blood, I suggest you look elsewhere. This will not be kittens and rainbows.

 

Emma Swan closed the file in front of her and stifled a yawn.  After spending the last three hours listening to Captain David Nolan drone on about the upcoming mission, it was a wonder she was still awake, and that her CIA superior wasn’t hoarse yet.  Then again, he’d done only half the talking, Major Zelena Mills from MI6 providing the other half of the information for the joint British/American venture.

Emma eyed the two agents across the table from her.  One was slumped lazily in his chair, his ankle propped on the opposite knee, a pen spinning gracefully in his fingers while the cap was tucked firmly between his lips, bobbing slightly as he chewed on it.  The older one leaned forward earnestly on bent elbows, paying rapt attention to everything discussed.  Both seemed more alert and wide awake than she felt, despite the younger one’s cavalier attitude.  Then again, they knew more about the case from the start than she had.

“Agent Swan?”

Damn, she must have missed something.  Not a good way to start a mission.

“Yes, sir?” she said quickly.  

Captain Nolan raised an eyebrow.  “What we’re asking of you is, to be honest, not entirely legal,” he said, voice gentle.  “I can’t force you to take this case, but you have to understand that if you do, we cannot provide backup.”

She nodded.  “I understand, sir.”  A quick glance to the agents facing her.  The dark-haired one, Killian Jones from what she’d learned, actually _winked_ at her.  She ignored him and turned back to Nolan and Mills.

“And you lads,” Major Mills said to her subordinates, “if anything happens, you’re on your own.  There will be no extraction, no supplies other than what you bring with you, and no rescue.  Got it?”  She was nearly glaring at Killian, who pointedly avoided her gaze.

“Absolutely, ma’am,” the older brother, William, said crisply.  The younger Jones only grinned.

“Excellent.  You ship out tomorrow morning for Switzerland.”  The operation heads of British and American intelligence stood and collected their paperwork, moving off to a corner in quiet discussion with each other.  Emma lifted her computer bag from the floor and slipped the file inside.

“I suppose we have a lot to discuss, Agent Swan,” said the older Jones softly.  Emma looked up, meeting his pale blue eyes.  He reached his hand across the table.  “Liam Jones, pleasure to meet you.  You feel confident you can do this?”

She slipped her hand into his.  She wasn’t really surprised at the firmness of his handshake - he seemed strong enough - but she was pleased he hadn’t tried to crush her fingers with his grasp as so many of the other agents she’d worked with had.  Men who knew their own worth rarely needed to prove it in such childish displays of strength.

“Emma, please,” she nodded.  “I’ve never been in the field, ‘agent’ sounds… weird.  And yeah, I’m pretty good at my job.”

The younger Jones snorted at that, his leg falling to the floor as he leaned forward.  “Never been in the field?  Then why the bloody hell were you assigned this mission?  Do you even know how to use a gun?”

“I had the same basic training you did,” she replied quickly, her voice calm despite the rage that was starting to simmer underneath.   _Who the hell does this guy think he is?_ she thought.  “I can handle weapons.  Can you do my job?”

“It is the twenty-first century, lass.  Most of us have pretty extensive training with computers.”  He grinned, but there was no warmth in it.  In fact, his entire expression was one she wasn’t sure she could read properly, and she considered herself a pretty good judge of other people.  He seemed so cocky, confident, but behind his eyes there was almost… fear?  That couldn’t be right.  Accomplished agent like him, service record longer than the mission file she had just put away, he’d been in his fair share of impossible situations.  This was just one more job.  So why did he seem so frightened?

“How’s the bike?” she asked instead, changing the subject.

He looked startled, and she couldn’t help feeling pleased.  “What?”

“Your bike.  Red, black, white stripe down the sides, I think you nicknamed it… the Jolly Roger on your insurance form, right?  How is it?”

“It’s… it’s fine,” he said, eyes narrowed as if daring her to continue.  Liam had an eyebrow raised as he glanced at his little brother.

“So the crash last week,” she continued, “into the mailbox on - what was it, 5th street?  The bike still works fine?  I mean, with a damaged muffler like that, and that was a nice knock on the side of your head you’re trying to cover up, I didn’t think-”

“How do you know about that?” Killian interrupted, deliberately not meeting his brother’s curious expression.   _Interesting,_ she thought, _that he hides these things from Liam._

“Computers,” she replied, and not a little smugly.  “I also know about the time you helped your neighbor, Mrs. Johnson, pull weeds in her back garden, the type of shampoo you prefer, what you last purchase was online, and where you went last week with one Ruby Luc-”

The younger Jones held up a hand.  “Okay,” he grinned, his cheeks just a tad flushed.  “I get it.”

“Like I said, I’m pretty good at my job.”  Not a word from either of the brothers, not that she gave them a chance to say much anyway.  Emma picked up her computer bag and slung the strap across her shoulder.  “Now what do I call you?  I highly doubt you want me to call you ‘the little Jones’ for the entire mission.”

He regarded her for a long moment, sizing her up with the full intensity of his deep blue eyes, and she couldn’t help feeling like maybe he understood more of her than she really wanted him to, that maybe he was just as good at reading people as she was.  Maybe there was more to him than the overconfident swagger he paraded in public.  

“Younger,” he said finally, his grin spreading only wider.  “And Killian will do.”  He extended his hand, which Emma took.  His grip was, if anything, even more relaxed than his brother’s.

“All right, Killian, Liam,” she nodded to each of them in turn.  “I’ll see you tomorrow at 0800.”

 _This is definitely going to be interesting_ , she thought as she turned away and left the room.

* * *

One thing Emma had forgotten from basic training - bulletproof vests weighed a _ton_.  Her shoulders already ached, and they’d only left the car ten minutes before. _Liam’s so lucky for not needing one where he is_ , she thought, adjust the strap for the fifteenth time.  She could feel the weight of it every time it bumped her back as she moved, banging against the holstered pistol Killian had insisted she carry despite her protests.

“Backup,” he’d said, flipping on the safety and handing it to her back at the hotel room.  “Never go in without backup.”  She’d tucked it in the small pocket at the waistband of her pants and tried to forget about it.

She and Killian stood outside the service exit of the secured building, her tablet in one hand as she tapped furiously at the touchpad with the other.  She checked the internal building systems and protocols she’d slipped into the system through the backdoor she’d found earlier.  She had already bypassed the external security, but getting inside would take a little… more…

“Got it,” she whispered, and he quickly pulled open the now-unlocked door.  He trained his weapon around the stairwell quickly, then motioned for her to enter.

“Second floor,” she said quietly, nodding to the stairs.

He led her up the two flights and glanced briefly through the windowed door at the landing.  

“Cameras?” he mouthed.

She shook her head.  “Disabled, only they won’t figure it out for the next thirty minutes.”

He grinned, dimples deepening in both cheeks as he did, and once again opened the door for her, waving his hand through courteously.

“Oh, _now_ you’re going to be a gentleman?” she hissed, stepping through.  His blatant dismissal of her skills the day before bothered her more than she thought it had, though he’d more than made up for it in the last few hours.  While planning the details of the mission in the hotel, he’d listened to her ideas, took them seriously, offering a few suggestions of his own, exactly the opposite of the rude attitude he’d shown her at the initial briefing.  But she couldn’t help wondering how much of that first impression he still held onto underneath it all.

He followed her, his weapon sweeping in all directions in case of any threats her computer program hadn’t picked up.  No one surprised them, as she knew they wouldn’t.

“I’m always a gentleman,” he said, his voice low as they approached the server room, and he offered a mock-bow to her.  She smiled mirthlessly as she stepped up to the security pad and waved a gloved hand over the keypad, pressing the correct sequence quickly.  The lock clicked softly.  “After you,” he bowed again.

The room was cold, her breath visible in the frigid temperatures.  She eyed her tablet as she led him down the columns of machinery to the computer terminal in the far corner.  She pulled out the small flash drive from her pocket, slid out the keyboard on the wall and looked at Killian.

“Three minutes, from when I stick this in to when when they’re going to figure out we’re not where my program says we are,” she said quietly, though no cameras in here would pick up any audio or video of them.  “You ready?”

“Always.”

Emma turned back to the terminal and slipped the drive in the USB slot.  Alarm bells sounded, but she knew all traces of the break-in would be directed toward the other end of the complex - after all, she’d programmed it.  Her fingers _flew_ over the keyboard, typing out the commands she’d memorized, expertly downloading the files she needed and evading some of the design changes she hadn’t anticipated.  She kept track of the passing seconds in her head, though she knew Killian would be keeping time as well.

The icon blinked on the screen with forty-five seconds to spare.  She grabbed the flash drive, tucked in the keyboard, and turned around.

“It’s done, let’s go.”

Killian led them to the hallway, his gun sweeping the floor for any stragglers who might have decided to check on this building for whatever reason.  All clear.  They raced to the end of the hall, slammed open the security door, and ran down the stairs.

Halfway to the first floor, they heard shouts from above them, the sounds of boots on steps heading down toward them, and a lot of yelling.  Someone must have figured out their misdirection a little early.

“Dammit!” Killian muttered as they continued downward.  She heard the safety of his weapon flipping off behind her, but she didn’t turn back to check, just concentrated on not tripping as she took the stairs two at a time.

She wasn’t prepared for the sound of gunfire in the enclosed space, how loud it would be, and just how terrifying it was to know they was the one they were aiming for.  Killian returned fire, a short burst aimed upward in the space between the railings.  They had no intention of killing any of the guards, they’d discussed earlier, but they couldn’t let themselves get killed either.  

Emma jumped down the last four stairs and hit the ground hard, Killian just a pace behind her as more shots rang out.  She heard the bullets hit the cement walls near her as she felt for the bar across the door to open it.  Some of the bullets ricocheting off the railing with a metallic noise, and she prayed they were as bad at shooting as bad guys in the movies always were.

A heavy force knocked into her back with a loud grunt, pushing her hard against the door.  Killian, she realized quickly.  He was slumped against her, his back to hers as he kept his body between her and the approaching guards.  He raised his weapon to shoot back, but he couldn’t seem to lift it high enough.  The footsteps only got louder.

“The explosives,” he said huskily, not quite turning around.  “Do it.”

She grabbed the small tablet she’d hastily shoved into the pocket at her side, tapped rapidly at the screen.  The small charges they’d set earlier were primed and ready to go.  “On three?” she asked, and he nodded.

“One,” he rasped.  She leaned into the door and the two of them tumbled out of the stairwell onto the pavement outside.

“Two,” Killian grunted, kicking the door shut with his foot as he rolled on top of her, his warm weight a surprising comfort though she had no time to really think about it before-

“Three.”

The ground shook as the world exploded around them.


	2. Second Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving right along!

A small amount of dust and debris settled on the ground around them, the explosion mostly contained to just inside the stairwell.  Killian hoped the guards were far enough away from the blast; it wasn’t their intention to hurt anyone on this mission.  Information retrieval only.  It wasn’t the guards’ fault the data they needed happened only to reside inside the servers at this facility and weren’t accessible online.  Agent Swan had already tried remotely accessing them, her skills far greater than he had even imagined, but she encountered too many firewalls for it to be a feasible method of obtaining the required records.

He slid off Emma with a soft groan he hoped she hadn’t heard.  

“Are you hurt?” he asked.  The dim streetlights a few meters away didn’t lend much light to where they were sprawled on the pavement, but it was enough to see that she was breathing, at least.  He switched on the safety of his gun and slipped it into the holster at his side.  He didn’t want to risk putting it down somewhere where it could get lost, especially after that explosion.  More guards would be on their way soon, from all over the facility, and he needed to be prepared.

“No,” she said, shaking her head.  “You?”

He reached out his hand, which she took.  “Fine,” he grunted as he pulled her to her feet.  “We have to get out of here, there’ll be more of them coming soon enough.”  She nodded, but she seemed a little shaky.  Understandable, for her first time in the field.  Getting shot at wasn’t _technically_ part of the plan, though they were both prepared for that possibility.

“Swan?” he asked gently, bending closer to her in concern.  “Are you sure you’re-”

“I’m fine,” she replied, voice wavering just a bit.  She met his eyes .  “But you… you fell on me, inside.  Are you sure you weren’t hit?”

Killian grinned, hoping she couldn’t tell how close to a grimace it was in the near darkness.  “Tagged my vest, I think,” he said, glancing at the dark Kevlar.  “Arm’s numb, but everything else seems to be intact.”  He watched as her gaze travelled down his left arm toward his fingers, which he was able to wiggle despite the lack of sensation.  “Can we please go?”

She nodded and let out a breath.  “Yeah, let’s go.”

They set off at a jog toward the section of fence he’d already cut on their way in, where the cameras should be down for at least another half an hour.  She ran ahead, and he was alarmed to find himself out of breath not halfway to the exit.  He was in better shape than that, he knew.  And with each jarring step, his shoulder pounded in protest, his arm jostling as he moved.  He grabbed his elbow, holding his arm as close to his side as he could to keep it still.

Bullet probably hit the vest against a rib, he figured.  His chest would be bruised tomorrow, the impact might have even fractured something, but he shouldn’t be _this_ out of breath, not from such a short sprint.  And it shouldn’t feel like he’d been kicked in the chest by a horse.

They got to the fence, and Killian tried not to seem _too_ out of breath as he squeezed carefully through the cut section.  Just beyond was the employee parking lot, and the car they’d stashed there.

“You know the way to the swap?” Killian asked as they approached the dark green Mercedes.

“Yeah.”

“You drive.”  He went to the passenger side, releasing his grip on his arm to open the door.  Tossing his holster and sidearm to the floor, he maneuvered into the car and closed the door.  Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, he could feel each beat of his heart throbbing in his shoulder.  He’d taken rounds to the vest before and it always hurt, but not like this.

“You okay?” she asked as she slid the key into the ignition and started up the car.

He nodded once.  “Just drive.  ”The numbness in his arm was starting to wear off, a tingling sensation beginning to travel up and down the limb.  He clenched his left fist periodically, pleased to see his hand responding properly.  Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he feared.

As she navigated the small car through the maze they’d deliberately chosen to avoid being followed, he fumbled for the straps of his vest one-handed.  Ripping them open, he hurriedly slipped the weight of it off his shoulder and added it to the pile of gear at his feet.  With two fingers, he prodded at the sharpest point of pain.

His fingertips came away bloody.

He stared at his hand for a long minute, forcing himself to focus, to _think_.  

Stop the bleeding.  Assess the damage.  Get Liam.

“Do me a favour, love,” he said calmly, reaching for the glove compartment in front of his knees.  He popped it open, pulled out the first aid kit they’d stashed there, and settled it on his lap.  “Call my brother, tell him to hurry straight back to the hotel when he’s done, yeah?”

“Okay, but why-”  

He knew the exact moment she turned to him by the way the car lurched sideways, nearly knocking the medical supplies to the floor.  

“Killian, you’re bleeding!” she exclaimed, yanking the wheel to pull over.

“Yeah, I know,” he muttered softly, rifling through the box on his lap.  “Just don’t stop, keep driving.  Call Liam.”  He looked up and met her worried gaze.  “I’ll be fine, Swan.”

Even in the dark, he saw her swallow, hard.  But she nodded, and turned the car back to the center of the lane as she made the call.

He found the packs of wrapped gauze pads and pulled out two, slipping the corners between his teeth to tear them open.  His hand trembled noticeably, whether from pain or blood loss or the adrenaline crash, he wasn’t really sure, but he couldn’t get a solid grip on the rustling paper wrapping the pads.

Emma’s hand covered his just then, startling him as she took the gauze from him.  Her knee propped against the steering wheel, she used both hands to rip open the packages and then passed them back.  Sparing a glance from the empty road, she looked directly into his eyes as he took the sterile pads from her, their fingers touching briefly.

He almost expected her to say something, perhaps to yell at him for getting shot as he imagined Liam would, or to tell him she’s pulling over anyway, despite his request.  But she said nothing, just pulled her hand away from his as she turned back to watch the road.

Killian watched her for another moment.  She might not have the field experience, but she seemed calmer than a lot of seasoned agents he’d been forced to work with over the years.  She’d proven herself more than capable in her computer skills and in the high pressure situation they’d found themselves and, more than ever, he regretted the horrid way he’d treated her at their first meeting.  She was tougher than she looked, he gave her that.

He shook his head slightly to pull himself from his thoughts, trying to focus on the important matter of his blood seeping out of a hole in his body.  He pulled back the neck of his black t-shirt and found the entry wound almost immediately, a small circular hole just below the collarbone to the right of where the vest had been.  Prodding gently, he felt around the back of his shoulder, but he couldn’t find where the bullet came out, if it even had.  He wadded up the gauze in his hand and pressed it as hard as he could to the bleeding wound.

He wasn’t prepared for how much it would _hurt_.  He groaned deep in his throat, jaw clenching tight, his eyes squeezing as the pain assaulted his arm with renewed fervor.  His upper body curled forward reflexively, wrapping around the pain.  He swore he felt one of his ribs shifting with the pressure he was exerting on the area, but he couldn’t dwell on that at the moment.  Either something was broken, or it wasn’t; he still needed to get the bleeding under control.

Eventually, the pain died down somewhat, and he managed to straighten up and rest his head against the back of the seat.  Emma glanced at him periodically and he did his best to flash her a quick grin when her gaze was on him, but she always seemed to turn away before she could see his face.

She pulled up neatly behind the car they had arranged earlier, throwing the Mercedes into park, yanking out the keys, and jumping out in a matter of seconds.  He took a few steadying breaths before opening his own door and sliding his legs out of the car.  He watched her open the trunk of the black BMW in front of them and toss her bulletproof vest inside, followed by the pistol he’d given her.  She came around to his side and reached for his equipment from the floor of the car.

“Swan, I can get it,” he said quietly.  Either she ignored him or she hadn’t heard him, but she didn’t say a word.  He dropped the bloodied gauze to his lap, reached out and held onto her arm before she could pull away.  “Emma.  Stop.”

She froze at his touch, but didn’t move away, his vest clenched in her fingers.  “I’m going to be fine,” he continued, as light a tone as he could manage.  “I’ve had worse.  I’m not as skilled on computers as you but, if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving.”

Emma slowly raised her eyes to meet his.  He might have been prepared to handle anger, or wariness, or even distrust.  He _wasn’t_ ready to deal with the tears he saw shimmering in the dim streetlights.  She shook her head the moment he noticed, blinking rapidly until the tears he’d seen were only a memory.

“I can’t…” she started softly, but trailed off.  He said nothing.  They had a few minutes to spare, changing cars was just a precaution, he was certain no one would have managed to stay on their tail with the route they took from the banking facility.  He waited as she visibly tried to pull herself together.

“I’ve… lost people, people I cared about, people who said they would be fine when they weren’t,” she finally managed, her voice quiet but steady, her bright green eyes looking straight into his, and he found himself slightly unnerved by the honesty in her gaze.  “Don’t tell me that, don’t… dismiss me like that, okay?  I’m not a child, don’t treat me like one.  You’re not fine.  Maybe you’ve survived worse, maybe that’s true, maybe you don’t like people helping you when you’re hurt, but don’t tell me that you’re fine when you’re bleeding all over the car and shaking so badly you can’t open a gauze wrapper.  We’re supposed to be partners here.  Don’t lie to me.”

Killian gave her a moment, both to make sure she was finished and to process this vastly different image he had compiled of the woman before him.  He had never been one to share his moments of weakness with anyone save Liam - a lifetime of losing people he’d loved taught him to keep his pain guarded, trust no one but those he could definitely rely on.  But Emma… she seemed to have a few of the scars that matched his, only she wanted nothing less than simple honesty to combat her fears of losing those around her.  While he’d rather hide away where no one would even think to look for him, she needed to feel that trust, that connection that meant that someone cared enough to reach out to her.  Where he saw pain as weakness, she seemed to regard it as a way to bind their strengths together, and to grow ever stronger because of it.  And maybe she had a point.

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to convey just how much he meant it with the look he gave her.  “You’re right, we’re working together, and you deserve the truth.  I’m not really good at… sharing, or asking for help.  But I’ll try to be honest with you, if you’ll be patient with me.”

“Fair enough,” she nodded, and stood back, his gear still in her hands.  “Do you need help getting to the other car?” she asked.

“I can manage,” he shook his head.  “But I promise to let you know if I can’t.”

That seemed to placate her.  She went to put his equipment in the BMW and he shakily stood from the green car and made his way over to the dark one.  She had already started the engine by the time he sank into the seat beside her, his hand still clutching the wound at his upper chest.

She made it back to the hotel in Geneva in half the time it should have taken, flying through the gears with a practiced ease.  He was grateful for her speed - his shoulder hurt with every bump the car hit along the way, and his breaths were coming in short puffs despite his attempts to mask his difficulty drawing in enough air.  He didn’t think his lung was hit, it wasn’t the kind of desperate gasping that came with that kind of injury and the wound wasn’t sucking in the gauze covering it, but he really couldn’t be sure until Liam had a chance to check it out.  Pulling up at the back entrance of the building, she slid the car into park and turned off the engine.

“Good thing we got the first room nearest the exit,” she said softly.

“We do that on purpose, love,” he grinned, and this time she turned in time to see it.  “In case we need a quick escape.”

“Or entrance, in this case,” she added.  “Leave the gear?”

He nodded.  Liam could deal with it when he got back.

He opened the car door and realised how much more difficult moving had become over the last few minutes.  He was exhausted, his pulse raced far too quickly, and he could feel a cold sweat standing out across his skin.  Before he could try to stand on his own, Emma was there, her arm outstretched for him to take.

He did.  She pulled him up, and he leaned heavily on her, let her support his weight.  Huddled together, they quickly made their way to the glass entrance and to their hotel room beyond.

Before the door to the room was locked and bolted, Killian had already managed to make it the few feet to one the beds on his own, where he sank wearily, his left arm clutched in his right hand.  He was having a hard time controlling his breathing, he knew she was going to figure out he was in a lot more pain than he was comfortable admitting, but still he tried to fight through it.

Emma came over and reached for the bottom of his t-shirt, about to tug it up over his head.  He didn’t even have time to think when his hand lashed out and grabbed hers, stopping her.

“No,” he whispered harshly, his eyes wide.  “Leave it.”  He hurriedly added, “Please,” but the damage was already done.

She stared at him, the calculations in her eyes obvious to him.  He’d just promised to try to be honest, and he probably just blew it in those few seconds.  He could almost feel her trust in him plummet, but there was nothing he could do about it.

“How can I help?” she offered, and he was surprised at the lack of anger in her voice, just concern.

“Towels,” he rasped hoarsely.  “Get as many as you can.”  She nodded and left for the bathroom.

While she was out of the room, Killian slid back onto the bed, his head resting comfortably on the pillow as he continued pressing down on the wound as hard as he could.  It wasn’t nearly as much pressure as he needed, though, he was already too weak.  Emma would have to do the rest.

She came back, a stack of white towels of various sizes in her hands.  Killian pulled his hand away, his fingers pulling at the hole in his shirt, trying to widen it.  Emma realised what he was doing and took over once again, neatly tearing the fabric and uncovering the still-bleeding wound.

“Thanks,” he murmured, motioning for a cloth.

She took a medium sized hand towel and passed it to him.  Before she could react, he quickly grabbed her hand, held it tightly as he laid the towel over the wound as best he could, her fingers sandwiched between cloth and his hand.

“I need you to push down on this, Swan,” he said, his voice far weaker than he would have liked.  “No matter what happens, don’t stop putting pressure on it.  Not until Liam comes back, okay?”

“What are you going to do?” she asked quietly, her fingers trembling slightly under his.

He forced a grin.  “If I’m lucky?  Pass out.”

“Killian,” she started, her fingers pulling away from his.  “I’m a hacker, I deal with computers, not blood.  I can’t-”

“You can do this, love,” he interrupted.  “You have to.  You’re the only one here who can.”  He watched her swallow, steeling herself for what he knew wasn’t the most pleasant task.  Still, he offered her another grin.  “Besides, after everything we accomplished tonight?  I’ve yet to see you fail.”

She almost rewarded him with a smile at that, but took a deep breath instead.  “Ready?”  Her voice was barely above a whisper.

He nodded.  “Always.”  He pulled his hand away from hers, fisting his fingers into the quilt under him, and took a breath of his own.

She leaned forward, pushing down on his chest, and the apology in her eyes was the last thing he saw before his world exploded in agony.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that someone had taken off his boots, leaving his socked feet propped on a mountain of pillows. 

The second thing he noticed was Liam sitting next to him - a blood-soaked towel in his hand and a scowl on his face.

“I wore the vest this time, I swear,” Killian managed quietly, a slight smirk at his lips.  Liam didn’t return the expression.

“You got the code to work?”  Killian changed the subject, mostly to keep his mind off the deep throbbing that had taken up residence from his neck to the end of his shoulder and halfway down his chest.  He was still breathing, not as deeply as normal but it seemed his lung was safe, and he could still flex his fingers, though not without some effort.  He tried to move his arm, but gave up as the pain came roaring back with the slightest movement.

Liam nodded.  “Emma’s checking it over for issues now.”  He dabbed at the slow trickle of blood still seeping from the wound, deliberately avoiding meeting Killian’s eyes.

Killian winced as the rough cloth touched his skin, biting back any noise that might have escaped otherwise.  He swept his gaze around the room, but didn’t have to turn far to find the American agent.  Emma sat in a chair at the other side of his bed, a laptop on the bedspread in front of her, furiously tapping keys.  She glanced up briefly, flashed him a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and then went back to work.

He turned back to his brother.  “How bad is it?”

No answer.

“Liam.”  Finally, his brother’s eyes met his.  “How bad?”

Liam sighed, tossing the towel into a bowl at the side table.  “I don’t think the bullet hit anything vital,” he reported, efficient as always.  “Blood flow’s mostly under control, so unless there’s a lot of internal bleeding, I think we can rule out an arterial hit.  You have at least one broken rib, nothing we can do about that here.  And the bullet’s still inside, though I’ve no clue where exactly since it seemed to have bounced around a bit.  We have to leave it there, for now.”

“We need to get you to a hospital, Killian,” his brother finished.

Killian shook his head weakly.  “Can’t.  They’ll file reports.  And we can’t use local contacts, we don’t know who’s been compromised by Gold.”

“I know that,” Liam sighed again, familiar notes of frustration in his voice.  “But you’re a terrible patient, and I, for one, don’t really want to deal with you.”  Killian offered him a weak grin, which Liam, finally, returned before continuing.  “First aid box is low on antibiotics, I’m still going to have to find a way to get more, but there should be enough bandages and painkill-”

“No painkillers,” Killian said quietly, shaking his head again.  

Liam gaped at him.  “I’m not going to be stuck in this room with you crying in pain.”

“No painkillers,” Killian repeated, fixing his brother with a hard stare.  His voice was stronger than the last time and he knew Liam got the message.  “And I don’t cry.”

“Fine.  Have it your way.  Suffer.”  Liam stood abruptly and went to the open medical kit on the dresser, his back to Killian as he rifled through it.

“He’s not really mad,” Emma said quietly.  He turned to the side, her attention still fixed on the screen in front of her, though she tore her gaze away for a moment to look at him.  “He was really worried about you when he came in.”  Killian nodded, and was about to reply when Liam came back to the bed with the box, two white pills pinched between his fingers.  

“Here.  Antibiotics.”  He popped the medicine past Killian’s lips, picked up the glass of water from the table next to the bed and brought the straw closer.  Killian raised his head from the pillow and took a sip, swallowing the tablets quickly.

“And yeah, I’m worried about him,” Liam said to Emma.  “He’s a bloody idiot when it comes to letting other people take care of him, just wait and see.”

Killian almost didn’t catch the smirk in her voice when she replied, “I hadn’t noticed.”

Liam let out a laugh, running a hand across his eyes and turning to Killian, a more genuine smile on his face than he’d seen since he woke up.  “Made quite the impression already, haven’t you.”  Killian only shrugged his right shoulder in response.  Liam reached for the first aid kit and settled in the chair beside the bed.  “Best get you patched up then, Mr. Tough Guy.”

Better.  He could handle his brother being upset with him, generally.  But with Emma involved, they needed to be able to work together without their old and familiar sibling rivalry getting in the way of the mission, especially this one.

“That’s Agent Tough Guy,” Killian shot back with a grin, but he was quickly growing tired, his eyes closing against his will.  Might be a good idea to rest anyway, with all the-

_No._

“You bastard,” he muttered, forcing his eyes open to glare at his brother.  “You promised.”

Liam shrugged, pulling out bandages and medical tape and setting it on the bed.  “I promised no painkillers, but there’s no way I’m doing this with you awake.”

“You promised,” Killian repeated, pulling his eyes open each time they tried to close.  He tried to get up, to move around, fight the effects of the sleeping pill his brother had slipped him unnoticed along with the antibiotics, but his little remaining strength was fading, fast.

“I’m staying right here, Killian.  I’ll make sure nothing happens while you’re out.”

Killian managed to keep his eyes open long enough to glare at him.  “That’s what you said then.”

And then he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, you will get all the information about the case they're working and all their histories, starting next chapter. Be patient, good things come to those who wait. Reviews? Comments? Requests?


	3. Third Degree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said you’ll get some backstory, and here it is. More revelations are still in store for our trio, hang on tight, it’s only going to get bumpier! 
> 
> Huge shout-out to MedicBaymax and Ice_Cube44 for putting up with my incessant questions. I hope I got some things right, any errors are firmly my own.

_“That’s what you said then.”_

The words were quiet, Killian’s voice fading as he drifted off to sleep not a moment later, but the impact was greater than Emma expected.  Liam rocked back as he’d been slapped, his entire body tense as he drew in a sharp breath.  She’d heard their entire conversation, from arguing to more playful banter, and finally to that last sentence Killian had hurled at his brother before falling asleep.  She understood the _words_ they said, but it was as if they spoke some secret language, known only to the brothers Jones and no one else.

Despite her extensive research into their files - and into other areas of their lives not exactly provided by MI6 - she realised just how little she knew about Killian and Liam Jones.  This wasn’t the time to get into it, she knew.  The mission was nowhere near over, there would be time for those questions later.

She closed her computer with a soft click.  The program she was running would need a few more hours to finish compiling anyway.  “What can I do to help?” Emma asked quietly, hoping to draw Liam from the shock that was so clearly etched on his face.

It worked.  The older Jones shook his head almost imperceptibly, his pale blue eyes - lighter than his brother’s, she noticed - meeting hers.  He cleared his throat, then nodded.

“Water,” he managed, authority creeping back into his posture.  “I’ll need warm water.  More gauze pads, towels.  And maybe some ice if you can find any?”

“I’ll get what I can.”

She brought him the water and as many towels she could find.  A quick trip down the hall to the ice machine for some ice, and she grabbed a few more towels surreptitiously from a housekeeping cart on the way back.  She stayed to help Liam bandage his brother as best they could, only realising how tired she was when they were taping up the gauze covering the wound.  She yawned widely when they finally sat back.  

Killian hadn’t woken once, nor had he made a single sound throughout their ministrations.

“I’ll wake him in a few hours for another dose of antibiotics,” Liam said, touching a hand to Killian’s forehead to check for fever yet again.  He nodded to her gratefully.  “Thank you, Emma.  For all your help.”

She blushed, stifling another yawn.  “Of course.”

“Why don’t you get some rest?” he offered.

Emma didn’t fight him, her eyelids already heavy with exhaustion.  She got ready for bed and slipped under the covers of the second bed, after Liam assured her that he’d take the sofa.  

She was asleep in minutes.

She woke a while later to the sound of hushed voices at the bed next to her.   _Killian must be up_ , she realised.  She almost rolled over to check on him, but stopped herself before she made a move.  Something was going on with them, something they didn’t seem to want to share with her.  Feigning sleep might be the only way to learn about what definitely _wasn’t_ in either of their records.

She kept herself as still as she could, and listened.

“-another dose.  Need to check the bottle first?” a voice that was definitely Liam's said quietly.

A snort from the injured brother was the only response.  A glass clinked against the wooden table, and she assumed Killian had just swallowed the small pills.  She could hear the way he was breathing - quick, short, punctuated by the occasional gasp of obvious pain - even across the small room, and not for the first time her chest tightened in sympathy.

“We don’t have much of the antibiotics left,” Liam continued.  “I have a few underground contacts here, might be able to get a meet with someone tomorrow for more.”

No response, except for Killian’s laboured breaths.  She heard the sound of medical tape being unrolled, the familiar ‘snick’ of scissors slicing through it.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said softly, “about earlier, the sleeping pill.  I know how much you hate it, but with Emma there watching...  You didn’t see how pale you were, and how scared _she_ was after you passed out on her like that.”  A quiet grunt from Killian, Liam probably taping down a fresh gauze, Emma figured.  “And I just... I can’t stand seeing you like this, Killian.”

“I know,” replied the younger Jones in a strained whisper.  “That’s why I’m trying to hide it from you.”

“Doing a piss-poor job of it, brother.”  Emma was relieved to hear the traces of a smile in his voice nonetheless.  “At least tell me _what_ hurts, if you won’t let me know how much.”

A pause.  Emma could almost imagine Killian thinking it over, debating how much to reveal to his brother.  Liam hadn’t been joking earlier - Killian really was a terrible patient.  Even in the short time she’d known him - and she was shocked to realise it was still just under two days - it seemed that hiding things about himself was one of his most practised skills.

“Chest, hurts to breathe,” Killian murmured.  “Entire arm hurts.  And-” his soft groan mingled with the sound of shifting blankets, “I can’t move my hand.”

Quiet for a moment, and then the older brother’s soft, “Can you feel this?”

A tingling at the side of her nose distracted her for a moment, the beginning of an itch she tried hard to ignore.  She almost missed Killian’s whispered, “No.”

A bullet wound to the shoulder was bad enough for the current mission, Emma knew, mentally running through her very limited medical knowledge.  But if his arm was completely out of commission, if the injury was more serious than they all imagined, it wasn’t just this case that would suffer.  He needed professional medical attention before it got worse, not some quick first aid in a hotel room.

“You could move your hand right after, so I doubt the bullet damaged anything major,” Liam said, sounding much less worried than she felt.  “Could be the swelling pressing against the nerves.  I can put some ice on it, if you think you can tolerate it.  I just don’t understand why you’d rather suffer through all this without-”

“You know why,” Killian cut him off, his voice quiet but firm.  Liam only sighed.

The urge to scratch her nose only got worse, the tickle spreading across to her cheek.  Emma forced herself to ignore it, her fists clenched where the brothers couldn’t see.

“You want me to trust you, to work with you again in the field after all these years,” Killian continued, sounding out of breath, “but you have to trust me, trust that I can handle it if I say I can.  No more trying to trick me into taking the meds.  I can’t…”  He trailed off with a quiet gasp.

Liam sighed again.  “This isn’t Kabul, Killian.”

Emma suddenly felt goosebumps break out across her skin, chasing up and down her arms and neck.

_Wait, what?_

Kabul?  There had been no mention whatsoever of Afghanistan in either of their files, no previous casework there, not even a stopover on a flight to that region of the world.  But clearly _something_ had happened there, something that they both didn’t want to relive.

“I know,” Killian replied with a pained breath.  “Believe me, I know.  But you need to let me do this my way.  Please.”

She didn’t hear Liam’s response, her mind racing to come up with some explanation for this glaring bit of information she had somehow missed.  It had to be something big, for Liam to measure this situation against that one and fall short on the comparison.  So why was it left out of their available history?  And how had they managed to hide it from the extensive searches she’d run on them when they were first assigned to work together?

_What the hell is going on?_

“What about Emma?” Liam asked suddenly, jarring her from her thoughts, bringing her back to both their conversation and the itch that was screaming to be scratched.  She remained still.  “Do you trust her?”

“Of course I do, she’s more than capable at-”

“Do you _trust_ her, Killian?” Liam interrupted him.  “Would you tell her everything?”

 _Everything what?_ Emma nearly demanded out loud.  She squeezed her fists tighter, willing the blindingly distracting itch to leave her alone, just for a few more minutes.

“She doesn’t need to know.  And assuming we survive, we’ll probably never see her again, so what’s the point?”  Killian sounded exhausted, and Emma couldn't shake the feeling that it was more than just physical weariness he was fighting.

“You need to trust _someone_ , at some point,” Liam said softly.  “But get some rest now, brother.  We can argue about this later.”

There was more rustling of blankets, a few muffled grunts of pain from the injured Jones as she pictured Liam tucking the covers around him, and then Killian’s barely whispered, “Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, for being here.  I wouldn’t…”  Quiet for a moment, then he continued.  “You know I trust you with my life, right?”  Emma could hear the intense sincerity of his tone, their bond of family asserting itself with his words, despite all other signs of rivalry they’d shown since she met them.  She was starting to realise that their displayed animosity had just been a front, or, at the very least, a coping mechanism for some shared past they were trying not to repeat.

“You’re starting to get mushy on me, Killian,” Liam replied, a smile in his voice.  “Go to sleep.”

She listened as Killian’s panting breaths evened out to something resembling a normal sleep rhythm.  She heard Liam’s footsteps leading away from the bed, the way he padded softly across the carpeting away from the younger Jones.  He stopped, somewhere near the doorway to the balcony beyond the bedroom, his whisper barely audible even in the now-silent room.

“And yeah, I love you too, brother.”

The balcony door opened and Liam left the room.

* * *

 

Emma lay still for a few more minutes, trying to process everything she’d just heard.  Something big happened, that much was evident, something the brothers didn’t want her to know about, or didn’t think she needed to know.  They might be right - previous missions of theirs didn’t really have any bearing on their current case.   _But there was no previous mission to Kabul,_ she thought in frustration, although she could clearly feel the aftershocks of that ghostly case resonating through every interaction between Killian and Liam.

Some things were too big to bury, even if all the physical records were destroyed somehow.

She could play along, pretend she hadn’t heard anything they’d said while thinking she was asleep.  She could watch, listen, gather her own information, a mental file on things they didn’t want her to know.  But, despite her particular skills involving a lot of sneaking around through programming backdoors, she’d never been one to take a purely indirect route.

She waited, making sure Killian was definitely asleep before _finally_ reaching for the itch that now seemed to be a permanent part of her face.  That satisfied, she stretched, feigning a yawn, and pulled back the covers.  She glanced over at the other bed.  Killian’s eyes were closed, breathing as shallow as it sounded, his face pale and pinched with pain even in sleep.  He still wore the dark t-shirt he’d refused to let her remove earlier, though Liam had cut away more of it to get at his injury easier.  A small bag of ice lay draped along his shoulder atop a thin towel, but the fresh bandage over the wound itself showed no sign of blood.  

She felt herself relax a little in relief.  He was still alive, he could still come out of this okay.

Flipping the switch on the electric kettle, she headed to the bathroom to wash her face.  Once the water boiled, she made two cups of tea from the assorted selection provided by the hotel and headed out to the balcony in her pajamas.

Liam was slumped in one of the chairs, an elbow propped on the table next to him, his head resting on his hand.  He looked up, startled, as she stepped out, but quickly grinned gratefully when she offered him one of the steaming mugs.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said apologetically, sinking into another chair.  “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” he said with a warm smile.  “Adrenaline will do that to you.  Want any sleeping pills?  Apparently I’ve got extra now.”

She smiled.  If he was able to joke about his earlier transgression, he must have decided to agree to Killian’s terms.  “I think I’ll pass.”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, each sipping from the slowly cooling beverages they held.  Emma wrapped her hands around her mug, allowing the warmth of it to seep into her fingers, comforting against the light chill in the air outside.

Liam broke the silence first.  “Killian said you did well out there tonight, good job on your first field work, Agent Swan.”

“Thanks,” she flushed.  “How’s he doing, by the way?”

“I… don’t know.”  He looked away, down at the table, at the steaming cup of tea.  “He was able to get up for a bit, made it to the bathroom at least, so that’s a good sign.  No fever right now, and no obvious signs of infection.  Had a few sips of juice, not much; hopefully tomorrow we can get him to eat something.  But right now…”  Liam sighed, an expression of brotherly annoyance she was quickly becoming familiar with.  The elder Jones twisted the mug in his fingertips, tracing lazy circles on the tabletop as he continued.  “His arm is completely numb from the elbow down, though his pulse is steady.  And he’s in a lot of pain, still refusing medication for that.  I really don’t know how we can finish the case with him like this.”

He scrubbed a hand across his face, then looked across the table at her.  “I’m worried we may have to leave him behind.”

Emma winced inwardly.  She could just imagine how well Killian would take _that_ idea.

She was quiet for another moment, and Liam didn’t offer anything further.  She decided to just go for it.

“What happened in Kabul, Liam?” she asked quietly.

He looked up at her so fast she was sure his neck had cracked at the sudden movement.  Regarding her carefully for a moment, she wasn’t prepared for the grin that broke out on his face.

“Killian said you were awake,” he said, wagging a finger at her.  “I thought he was just being his usual paranoid self.”

“There’s no record of any case there in your mission files.  Why?”

“Because it never happened.”  She waited for him to elaborate.  “The case was a disaster, on all fronts.  Getting it wiped from our records was a courtesy the agency did for us.  The least they could do, really.”  The traces of bitterness in his voice didn’t escape her attention.

“We were sent into Kabul about five years ago to gather information about a string of terrorist cells that had popped up in the area.  Just Killian, me, and Killian’s partner at the time.”

“Milah, right?” Emma supplied from memory.  

He nodded, and she was glad to see that at least _some_ of their recorded history was correct.  He continued fiddling with his mug as he spoke.  “She was the last steady partner he had, before the string of failed pairings.  They worked well together, great success rate on their shared case files with minimal losses.  They often went undercover as a couple.  Killian has a certain… appeal, he really knows how to turn on the charm when he needs it, and it fit better for him to be travelling with someone.  So, Milah.”

“Until she put in for a transfer back to Australia.”  Assuming any of the notes Emma recalled were correct, that would have also been about five years ago.  Could their failure in Kabul - whatever it was - have been so phenomenal that it chased her back home?

Liam shifted in his chair.  “Not exactly.”  He clasped his fingers around the mug and stared down at his hands.  “Killian got himself hurt the day before, nothing major but he had a run-in with local law enforcement that left him a bit bruised.  I gave him some painkillers and he went to sleep.  They came a few hours later, captured the three of us.”

Emma almost didn’t want to ask.  “Who?”

“The terrorists we’d been sent in to spy on, only they found us first.  Killian and I barely survived, but Milah… she didn’t make it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”  

Emma didn’t really know what else to say, but Liam continued as if she hadn’t said anything.  “Killian and I, we never worked together after that, it was too dangerous, too much could go wrong with both of us out there.”

Pieces of the puzzle were starting to fall into place.  Milah’s suspicious “transfer” back to Sydney, Killian’s chain of partners who didn’t last more than two months with him before requesting reassignment.  And Killian’s adamant refusal to take the painkillers earlier, his harsh words just before passing out, Liam’s reaction to it all.  She briefly recalled his fear she’d seen in his eyes at their first meeting, the fear she’d dismissed as just her imagination.  Killian _was_ afraid, but not of the mission, not the case, despite the high stakes they were all exposed to.

He was scared to lose another partner, especially if he was under the influence of medication.

“I never realised he still blamed me for it,” Liam was saying, shaking his head slowly.  “I had no idea.  I thought… I thought it was far enough behind us that he’d forgiven me.”

Emma reached out and touched her hand to Liam’s gently.  He looked up at her, his eyes guarded and filled with uncertainty, so different from the confident attitude he maintained over the limited time they’d spent together.  “He still loves you very much,” she said quietly.  “I was awake, remember?”

He gave her a half-hearted grin.  “Yeah, I know.”

She squeezed his hand briefly.  “So why are you on this case together now?  If it’s too dangerous, why pair you up for this one?”

“Killian and I have a... personal history with Gold, we knew him better than anyone in the department.  Gold was Killian’s assigned mentor when we were first recruited.  It ended… poorly, and I for one would very much like to see him imprisoned back in England.  We _need_ Killian’s assessment on this, he’s the only one who knows Gold well enough to catch him, and we’re not quitting this case until we do, trust me on that.  Only… I’m worried it’s too much for him, even without the bullet in his shoulder.”

“Then we’ll just have to figure out a way to make it work, won’t we.”  Emma squeezed Liam’s hand again, as if she could lend him the strength he didn’t seem to have anymore, strength she was surprised she even had, after everything in the last few months.   _Nothing like another person’s tragedy to put your own into perspective,_ she thought wryly.

“Aye, I suppose we will.”

Liam regarded her for a moment, and she had the feeling that he was re-evaluating his original impression about her, too.

“You are quite different from anyone he’s ever worked with before,” Liam said finally, a smile beginning to show at the edge of his mouth.  “For starters, not everyone puts up with my brother as graciously as you have.  You’re stubborn, perhaps just as much as he is.  I think Killian’s finally met his match with you.”

“You’re assuming I’m not _more_ stubborn than he is,” she grinned.

He laughed.  “No one is more stubborn than Killian Jones.  You’ll see, Emma.”

She only smiled and took the last sip of her now-lukewarm tea.  She gathered the empty mugs and went inside to deposit them in the sink while Liam locked the doors behind them.  He went to change for bed and she slipped under the covers, a brief, “Goodnight,” before she rolled onto her side and faced the wall.

As she lay in her bed, listening to the sounds of one brother settling onto the sofa, the other breathing softly as he slept, she marveled at how much everything had changed over the last few hours.  This wasn’t the same case she had signed up for, even if the details hadn’t changed, and those weren’t the same agents she had researched just days before.  If anything, she felt closer to the Jones brothers, their drive to catch Gold one she could relate to in so many ways, though she had no intention of revealing herself if she didn’t have to.

They had their secrets, it was only fair that she had hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews? Comments? Cookie recipes? Seriously, I'll take all of it.


	4. To the Four Winds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting to explore more of their dynamic, more backstory, more mission information, and I'm just having a great time imagining it all. This is one of my favourite chapters, so I hope y'all enjoy reading it half as much as I am writing it!

Killian gasped awake to the terrifying feeling of being crushed.

He was lying on his side, his arm propped against him, a pillow at his back, and he couldn’t breathe, eyes closed tight as he struggled.  Every wheeze sent shocks of pain through his chest, his arm radiating agony with each movement he tried to make, and he didn’t want to even try.  He knew he needed air, he knew he needed to pull in the precious oxygen his lungs so urgently needed, but he couldn’t find the strength to force himself to go through the pain that particular movement would cause.

Liam must have noticed something was wrong, must have rushed over, because soon his brother’s familiar arm was behind his head, pulling, lifting, sitting him up at the side of the bed.  Changing positions was _agony_ , but at least he could breathe - the short, shallow panting that was all he’d been able to manage since the night before, his right fist gripping the edge of the mattress as a lifeline.

He was sweating, unbearably hot as his body slowly calmed, Liam’s hand rubbing circles on his uninjured shoulder until he didn’t seem quite so desperate for each small gasp of air.

“You all right, little brother?” he asked worriedly.

Killian nodded, wincing as the movement pulled along his neck and shoulder.  “Will be,” he rasped, forcing a small grin.  He could already feel the sweat cooling on his skin, but there was a warmth through him that hadn’t been there the last time he’d woken.

Fever.  

Which meant possible infection, despite the antibiotics Liam was giving him.  Either they weren’t strong enough or his wound was worse than he thought, neither option good given their current situation.

With more than a little effort, he lifted his head, looked around.  Late morning, after nine according to the glowing numbers on the clock across from him.  He caught Emma’s worried expression from where she sat at the desk, her laptop open to what looked like random letters and numbers.  He tried to speak, but a brief flash of pain across his arm turned his attention down to his lap.

Liam was bending the fingers of his left hand, opening and closing his fist for him, the small motions tugging at his shoulder ever so slightly.  Killian was both horrified and fascinated to realise he couldn’t feel a thing in the extremity; it was as if the hand wasn’t attached to the rest of his body.  Liam looked up, the question clear in his eyes, but Killian shook his head before he could ask it out loud.  As long as he didn’t say it, he could pretend the lack of feeling in his hand was just a setback, something he could work around for now.  

He didn’t want to think about what would happen if there was any permanent damage to his arm.

“Help me to the...?” he asked quietly, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom.  Liam nodded and came up beside him as Killian grabbed hold of his left arm, holding it tightly against his side.  With his brother’s help, he stood slowly, the blood draining from his head in a dizzying rush.  Liam waited until he was ready, until the dark spots cleared from his vision, then supported him in the short trek across the room to the small hotel bathroom.

He silently suffered the indignity of allowing his brother to help him with normal bodily functions, resting on the closed toilet as Liam washed his hands.  “Your fever’s going up, Killian,” he said softly.  “I set up a drop with a contact here for some stronger antibiotics which should help, but we need to think about getting you to a doctor or-”

“No,” Killian muttered angrily.  Why was his brother so insistent on fighting him about this?  “Can’t happen, Liam.  Stop pushing it.”

Liam leaned on the counter, his eyes squeezed shut, and Killian had the brief impression his brother was trying to hold his tongue only for Emma’s benefit, that he was in for a shouting match of epic proportions should the American ever leave the two of them alone.  He was grateful she was still there - she was proving to be a far better asset than he’d ever imagined - but he was frustrated that she was unknowingly getting in the way of what wasn’t being said.  And now, more than ever, Killian needed his brother’s honesty.

“You could die, if this gets any worse,” Liam bit out finally, focusing intently on the white porcelain.  “You think you’re being strong, you think you’re proving you can avoid a repeat of what happened, but you’re being an idiot.”  He finally looked up, locked his gaze on Killian through the mirror.

“I can’t lose you.”  His words were quiet, but to Killian it was as if Liam had shouted it just the same.

Killian didn’t know what to say.  He’d never seen Liam this raw, this vulnerable, even after all they had been through, maybe even _because_ of all they’d been through.  His brother had always been there for him, the strong one, supporting him, helping him through everything, but it had been either with the absolute seriousness of a dutiful sibling, or concealed beneath the banter they’d perfected to hide the pain of their shared memories.  

He suddenly wondered whether Liam’s honesty was something he could even handle.

He reached out his right hand, covered his brother’s fingers on the countertop.  Liam glanced down, then raised his eyes to Killian’s.  There was worry in Liam’s eyes, concern tinged with pain, pain Killian knew was because of him, because of his stubborn refusal to let them take care of him as Liam wanted.  But what scared Killian the most was the fear he saw there as well.  Fear of losing him or fear for the mission and all of its unforeseen complications, he wasn’t sure.  It unsettled him, that Liam had managed to hide this much anguish from him.

Liam looked away first, blinking a little too rapidly as he turned and dried his hands on a towel.  “Better get you back to bed before you pass out right here.”  When he met Killian’s eyes again, there was no trace of the emotion he’d just shared so openly, all of it locked behind the familiar business-like pragmatism that he must have perfected to cover his private fears.

Killian nodded.  He’d let Liam have his mask, he needed to give him that, if only to get his brother to allow him his own.  Without another word, Liam helped him up and led him back to the bed.

Sitting down at the edge, he took the next dose of antibiotics from his brother’s hand and swallowed it down with a quick sip of juice.  He clenched his jaw against the steady throb of pain in his shoulder and chest as he used his feet to push himself back to sit against the headboard.  He was determined to stay awake for a little while, if only to catch up on the case.  Liam slid a couple of pillows behind his back, added one under his left elbow, and pushed a warm thermos into his one working hand.

“It’s soup, drink it,” he commanded, “or I’m checking you into a hospital the next time you fall asleep.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Killian mumbled, raising it to his lips.  He didn’t really have an appetite, but he knew he needed the calories and it would make Liam a _little_ happier.  Maybe.  He took a few short sips then rested it on his lap.

He looked over at Emma as Liam headed back to sit at the desk beside her, his own computer opened in front of him.  She was busy typing, dutifully ignoring the Jones family drama as she worked.  “How’s it going?” he asked quietly.  

“Good news and bad news,” she replied, finishing whatever she was doing before turning around.  “I was able to get into the data we grabbed from the bank servers.  Well, some of it anyway.”

“What did you find?” he asked, bringing the thermos to his mouth for another drink.  He sipped it slowly, each swallow costing him a breath he already couldn’t afford to lose.

“We got Gold’s incoming transactions only.  Where the money came from - sometimes a city, sometimes a country, but no names attached, obviously.  It’s good info, a lot of it correlates to the agents who were killed in the last six months - approximate region, approximate time frame.  As we figured, he seems to be offering to sell his services to help those areas get rid of their spy problem.”

“That’s the good news, I take it?”

She nodded.  “Yeah.  We have a clear trail of where he’s _been_.  The problem we have now is finding where he _is_.  And to do that, we need to get access to his outgoing transactions.”

“And we didn’t get that from the servers?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  Her coding was good, Liam had checked it over as well.  It should have pulled all of Gold’s banking data, not just-

“We have it.  But we can’t _get_ to it.”

“I don’t understand.”  Maybe it was the fever he could feel burning his skin, or maybe the constant pain that kept crashing over him despite trying not to breathe too deeply, only sheer stubbornness holding him from crying out with each wave of fresh agony.

“Can’t open it,” Liam supplied, distractedly typing at his own keyboard.  “File’s encrypted.”

Killian still didn’t understand.  Emma was supposed to be the top hacker in the CIA, and Liam’s computer skills were pretty good as well, he’d trained in extensive programming for his role as overseas coordinator and program supervisor.  

“Basically,” Emma explained, “whoever encrypted Gold’s information on the bank servers added a second layer of protection covering payment transactions.  It’s a separate bit of coding, and it’s completely impenetrable, no backdoors.  I  tried everything.”  She shrugged apologetically.

Killian thought for a moment.  Computers weren’t really his area of expertise - he was more involved with the tactical side of most operations - but he had some knowledge of the basics.  “What about the front door?  Is there a way to break into the password?”

“The only way past it is a security code.  Normally, I’d set up a simple brute-force algorithm to try number and letter combinations until we can walk right in.  But-”

“It sounded like a ‘but’ was coming,” Killian grumbled.  “Feels like a ‘but’ kind of day.”

Emma grinned.  “According to a feeler program I sent in to scout for weaknesses, it’s rigged to another, smaller program.  Enter the wrong code three times, and the subroutine wipes all the data inside.  All of it.  Unrecoverable.  And, unfortunately, my little bug tripped the ‘first guess’ switch.”

She wasn’t smiling anymore.

Well.  That was bad news.  Gold’s banking records at the Swiss institution was the only lead they had as to his whereabouts.  He ran most of his operation on his yacht, as of the last intell they had on him, so he could literally be anywhere in the world, and he conducted all his transactions and communication through _scores_ of dummy servers set up around the globe.  If they lost this information, they’d never find him, at least not without starting again from scratch, and the mission would be scrapped.

“Do you know what the code could possibly be?” he asked on a whim.  “How many numbers or letters?”

She nodded.  “Parameters from the subroutine came back as alphabetic only.  Five characters, not case-sensitive.”

Five letters.  Just five letters.

Killian knew instantly what the code was.  He knew, and yet he didn’t want to know, _hated_ that he knew with every fiber of his being.  Some part of him wanted to remain silent, let the mission end right here, right now, regardless of what it would mean if they failed to catch Gold.

But he also knew what it meant if he kept quiet.  Gold would only continue hunting down other agents around the world, he’d continue to advertise to governments who desperately wanted to keep Western eyes from prying into their secrets, he’d continue to sell his murders to the highest bidder, and all because Killian was too big a coward to say her name out loud.

“Milah,” he said quietly, ignoring the way Liam’s head whipped around to face him.  “The password is ‘Milah’.”

He saw Emma’s eyes widen just slightly before she flicked her gaze over to Liam - clearly the name meant something to her.  How much she knew from his file and how much from his brother, he had no idea, and at that moment, he didn’t really care, either.  Liam nodded to her and she turned back to the computer, called up the program, and typed in those five letters he knew so well, the five letters that belonged to the woman who haunted his dreams every time he closed his eyes.

The program dinged, confirmation that he was right, and he didn’t realise just how much he’d wished he was wrong.  His hand ached from the tight grip he had on the thermos, jaw clenched furiously as he fought back the rush of emotions he wasn’t prepared to let out - not yet, not ever, if he had his way.

Emma spun around in her chair, her mouth opening to ask, but he didn’t give her the chance.

“I’d like to go back to sleep now.”  Without looking at either of the other two people in the room, Killian placed the thermos on the nightstand beside him, slid down on the bed until his head touched the pillows, and turned away from the questions he knew he couldn’t really escape for long.

Memories crashed over him, memories so strong, so powerful, that he couldn’t tell if he was gasping from physical pain or from heartache, both battling for his attention.  He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his brother not to come over and check on him, willing the memories to just leave him the hell alone, willing himself to stay quiet despite the storm raging inside, the turbulence wrought by fever and pain and the scars of his past.

He only half-listened to the conversation in the room, his mind in another place, another time, until one word cut through his delirium, forcing him to pay attention despite the utter indifference he wished he felt.

“- Australia,” Emma was saying.  “Can’t really narrow it down more than that, this program you’re using is still too inexact.”

“Yeah, we work with it the best we can,” Liam replied.  “But if it points to Australia, he’s going to be there, the software’s never been wrong before.”

“Can we assume he’s living on his yacht?”

“Probably not, but it’s a good place to start.  If Australia didn’t have such a massive coastline...”

“He’ll be in Sydney.”  Killian’s own voice surprised even himself.  He hadn’t realised he’d already reached that conclusion until the words left his mouth, but it felt right, it felt true.  He turned back to them, thankful that Liam and Emma weren’t staring at him open-mouthed.  He didn’t really want to explain anything to her just yet, though he knew with certainty that he would have to, at some point.

Emma was already typing at her computer, pulling up satellite photos, though Killian was too far away to make out the details.  “Sydney Harbour, six possible marinas” she mumbled as she worked.  “If his yacht is there, it would be in the one on the west side of the bridge, the larger ones are usually docked there.”  Images flickered on the screen too fast for anyone to really catch, but she continued working the keyboard, a unique brand of magic he’d never fully understand.

“Got it!” she exclaimed, sitting back in her chair.  “ _Spinning Gold_ , his yacht.  It’s there right now.”  Killian propped himself up on an elbow to get a better look, ignoring the way his arm screamed in protest, and felt a grin slowly spread across his face despite the dread that settled in him as well.

That was it, Gold’s yacht.  That was where they had to go next, the final stage of their mission pictured right there on the screen.

“You found it,” he murmured.  “Great work, love.”

Emma blushed.

“Yes, excellent,” added Liam.  He pulled up a new screen on his computer, typing only half as fast as Emma had.  “Now we have to determine if he’s even _on_ the yacht, and how to go about capturing him and wiping his computer network.  Emma, we’ll need a frame-by-frame history of that yacht from whatever satellite photos you’re able to get to see if he’s actually been there in the last week or so.  I’ll arrange our transport to Sydney, after I find a hospital to drop off Killi-”

“What?” Killian nearly shouted as he heaved himself further upright, forgetting the pain, forgetting his broken ribs, forgetting everything but what his brother was saying.  “You can’t just leave me here, Liam, you can’t-”

Anger flashed in Liam’s eyes as he spun to face him.  “I can’t?  You’re barely _breathing_ , Killian!  Oh, and did you finish the soup like I told you to?  I didn’t think so.  You can’t come on this one, you won’t survive it, and I refuse to be the one left behind to drag your body home for burial.”

Killian felt his own rage _burning_ inside, boiling up and over and he didn’t even try to contain it.  “MI6 pulled _both_ of us in on this one, because this mission needs _both_ of us to complete it!  I’m not leaving this, not when we’re so close.  You need me there, you need-”

“I need you alive!” Liam roared.

Killian fell silent.

The room fell utterly still, quiet aside from the sound of Killian gasping to catch his breath, Liam’s outburst reverberating around the walls.  Tears _burned_ Killian’s eyes, tears of anger, of betrayal - and from Liam, of all people.  Liam, who should understand _why_ he couldn’t just walk away now, Liam, who was _supposed_ to be the one supporting him, on his side.  He wanted to argue, to fight back, but his strength was all but gone, it was taking everything he had left to keep himself half-propped up in the bed.  He needed to stay on the case, he needed to see this through.

But what he refused to acknowledge out loud, what hurt the most, was that Liam was most likely right.  He was in no condition to stay on board - he could barely sit on his own, how could he expect to go in undercover and take down Gold’s entire operation, even with Liam and Emma at his sides?

“We could charter a plane,” Emma said quietly, startling them both.  He’d been so engrossed with his brother, he’d almost forgotten she was still there.  Killian blinked and turned to her, but she faced Liam, who in turn was still glaring at him.   _What a strange team we make,_ he couldn’t help thinking.  “We could take a small charter, split up the trip in a few hops instead of taking commercial.  From Gold’s records, he usually stays in Australia for at least a month at a time, we have a couple of weeks until he’s due to leave again.  We have time to plan this out, give Killian a chance to recover a little more before rushing in.”

Liam said nothing for a long moment, his posture and expression nearly _vibrating_ in fury.  Finally he spoke, his eyes never leaving Killian’s.  “So this is how it’s going to be from now on?” he said, his voice low, almost dangerous.  “The two of you, ganging up on me?  I don’t even get a say in what happens to my only family?”

Killian didn’t know how to respond, but he didn’t have to.  Liam grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and turned toward the door.  Yanking it open, he glared back at Killian once more.

“I should have taken you to a hospital the _minute_ I saw you lying there,” he spat.

He left the room and slammed the door behind him.

Killian sank back against the pillows with a soft release of air as the room spun around him.  The argument had taken more out of him than he thought.  He felt light-headed, his chest flaring with pain even when he wasn’t actively breathing, and he felt as if he was teetering on the edge of sleep, a heavy darkness tugging him under.  But Emma…  He didn’t know why she’d offered to find a way to keep him on the case, why she thought it was worth standing up to his brother for him.  He owed her some reassurance at least.

“He’ll be back,” Killian rasped weakly, hoping she heard, hoping he was right.  Liam got angry, it happened on occasion, but he’d never seen him quite like this, never felt the sting of his words quite as deeply as this time.

Too much, it was too much, everything happening so fast it was almost physically dizzying.  This case, Gold, fighting with Liam, Milah… It was too much.

He heard movement, but but couldn’t concentrate, his eyes drifting shut on their own, and he was only vaguely able to feel as Emma gently tugged the covers out from under him.  She pulled them up to his chest, her hand cool against his heated forehead as she checked his temperature.

“Why would Gold use Milah’s name?” she asked quietly, so far away he almost didn’t hear it.

He let his eyes fall closed, swallowing hard.

“Because,” he whispered thickly, “he thought he loved her.”

He surrendered to the darkness.

* * *

Killian woke sometime later, a wet cloth mopping at his cheek, the coolness sending goosebumps up and down his limbs.  He pried his eyes open and saw Emma sitting beside the bed, a damp washcloth clutched in her hand.

“Hey,” she murmured.  “Your fever’s up a little, just trying to keep you cool.”

He glanced around the room.  “Liam?”

She shook her head.  “Still out.  But he texted that he’ll pick up the new antibiotics on the way back.”

New antibiotics.  The way back.  So Liam was at least willing to try, to allow him the chance to recuperate somewhat.  That was reassuring.  He closed his eyes, just concentrating on breathing in enough oxygen without causing more pain to his already protesting chest.

Emma continued sponging off his face and neck without a word.

“You’re not going to try,” he panted, pausing too often for breath, “to convince me, to take the painkillers?”  He cracked open an eye to see her reaction, feeling the slight smile dancing at the edges of his mouth.

She grinned without stopping.  “Would it change your mind?”

He shook his head slightly.

“No point, then,” she shrugged.  “I asked you to be honest with me, and I have to believe that you are.  If you tell me you can handle this level of pain, then I have to let you, even if I think the infection will get better faster if you can get some real sleep."

Killian stared at her in surprise.  He’d never worked with anyone quite like her before, and he’d been through his fair share of partners in the last handful of years.  Everyone he’d ever been paired up with was either scared of him - the loose cannon, his reckless intensity downright frightening at times - or they tried to control him, to tame him.  But Emma wasn’t doing either of those things.  It was as if she… really believed him.  But just on his word alone?  Why?

She was strong, tough even - anyone who put up with the brothers Jones for extended periods of time had to be.  She was brave, rushing into her first field work with barely any noticeable apprehension.  She was also fiercely brilliant, her computer work definitely the best he’d ever seen.  But there was a vulnerability he knew rested beneath it all, a side she tried to keep hidden though she’d revealed some of that last night while berating him in the car, and it was almost as if her secrets might have more in common with his own demons than he’d initially thought.  She seemed to understand him, to know him better than so many others in his lifetime and, while he could feel the fogginess of fever clouding his mind, the aches and weariness that had settled into his body while he’d slept not nearly long enough, he realised he desperately needed to understand her, too.

He changed the subject.  “Good job finding Gold’s boat earlier,” he murmured.  “Work is in the heart, eh?”

“Thanks, I enjoy it,” she said, dabbing gently along his left arm.

Killian huffed out a short laugh, or as close to a laugh as he could make it sound.  He had been _almost_ certain, but now he knew for sure.  “You never went to college, did you,” he said quietly.

She froze, her hand hovering over his hand as she slowly slid her gaze to meet his eyes.  “What?”

The words came slowly, halting, as he struggled for breath between them.  “Your file, said you graduated from Carnegie Mellon, top computer science program in the States.  But you never went, or you’d recognise your own school motto twisted around.  ‘My heart is in the work’ is how it’s meant to go, which you’d know if you’d gone there.  I figure the CIA offered you a job, what with your obvious skills?”  

Killian thought he saw a flicker of fear in her eyes, and thought it was gone before he could confirm it was ever there, he immediately felt bad for pushing her.  He reached out his hand, touched hers where it was still frozen in mid-air.  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry,” he said as gently as he could.  “Your secrets are none of my business.”

She nodded, but pulled away, dropping the cloth into a bowl of water on the nightstand.  “Yeah, I know,” she said quietly, “but if you’re going to trust me, I’m going to have to trust you, too.”  She busied herself smoothing out the blanket that mostly covered him, her eyes fixed on her fingers as she sighed softly.

“Yeah, they came to me,” she admitted quietly.  “I dropped out of high school at 17, was hanging with a group of hackers, breaking into small-town government offices, creating a little havoc, some... less-than-legal activities that we pulled off just for kicks.  We got busted and the guy in charge of us, Neal, he ran off, left me with the evidence.  I got slapped with eleven months in jail for a first-time offense.”

“Bastard,” he muttered softly, and she smiled sadly in response before continuing.

“CIA recruiter came after six months, said I’d gotten some attention, they thought they could use me, my skills.  I was sick of being used, of being played like some puppet on a string.  I turned them down, finished my sentence, and got the hell out of town.  Took some odd jobs for the next few years, nothing serious, nothing that needed a background check I couldn’t hack easily without calling too much attention to myself.  But I was bored.  So eventually, I called the number on the card they’d left me, and took the job.  And that’s it,” she shrugged.

There was more to the story, more to _her_ , he could almost feel it, but he didn’t push.  She’d offered this tiny bit of honesty and he wasn’t going to scare her off by delving deeper before she was ready.  It was something he knew all too well.

Emma reached over, picked up the cloth again, and reached for his neck.  Icy water splashed across his shirt, seeping instantly onto his chest, and he couldn’t hold back the gasp of surprise that escaped his lips.  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, jumping up to grab a dry towel.  She wiped at his shirt, but only managed to press the cold fabric more firmly against his fevered skin, chilling him further.  “I’m so sorry.”

He shivered as the cold assaulted his senses, furiously trying to keep from shaking too badly.  But he knew with the wet shirt, his trembling would only get worse as it slowly dried on him.  As much as he didn’t want to remove the flimsy shield concealing the secrets he wished would just stay buried in the past, she _had_ just opened up to him.  The least he could do was extend her the same trust.

“Cut it off,” he stammered.  “Just cut off the shirt.”

Emma stopped, towel against his chest, her eyebrows furrowed.  “Are you sure?  I mean, earlier you didn’t-”

Killian nodded once.  “Aye.  Just do it.”  

He tensed as she headed for the scissors in the first aid kit, trying to keep the shaking from jostling his shoulder, trying to hold back the grunts and groans that were building in his chest as he failed.  He was grateful for the exhaustion that was hovering beneath all the pain; he could always just slip away to avoid the obvious questions Emma was going to ask once she saw.

She came back, scissors in hand, and carefully started cutting away at the black fabric across his shoulder and chest.  “I actually liked this shirt,” Killian mumbled through clenched teeth, but she ignored him, carefully maneuvering around his unresponsive arm with the sharpened shears.  At last, she pulled the scraps of fabric away from his chest, from under his back, and he finally heard the gasp he’d known was coming all along.

Killian looked up at her, watching her face as she took in the ragged mess that was his chest, the past so clearly written out in the scars that cut across his skin.  Emma reached out a hand as if to touch him, but she never did, her palm ghosting along his exposed torso as if her fingers held the power to magically wipe away his history.  He followed her hand with his eyes, watched as she trailed up and down his chest, over angry knots of white scar tissue and long silvery ropes that even the dark hair covering so much of his skin couldn’t fully conceal.

She balled her hand into a fist and he finally had the courage to meet her bright green eyes, brighter still with the moisture he saw reflected in them.  He waited for her to question him, to say something, anything.

“We all have our scars,” she said finally, her voice so soft, so gentle, so _accepting_ without asking him a thing, that he couldn’t hold back the tears that slowly filled his eyes until he couldn’t even see her face.

“Just who are you, Swan?” he whispered, desperate right then to know more than just the answers written on the papers of her file, more than just the small bits she had shared with him in the few days since they met, more than just the brief flashes of understanding he had during conversations that were so much bigger than simply the words they’d exchanged.

Emma smiled, a little enigmatically, a little sadly.  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Perhaps I would.”  He was growing more tired with each passing moment, but he fought his closing eyes with all the strength he could muster, if only to learn more about her.

But she shook her head.  “Not now, Killian,” she said, reaching once more for the wet cloth.  “Go to sleep.”  This time she remembered to squeeze it out first before laying it across his forehead, and the cool comfort accomplished what gravity could not.

His eyes finally closed and he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews? Comments? Promises you don't intend to keep? =D


	5. Fifth Wheel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little comfort, a little history, but the big reveals are still to come! Next chapter promises some heavy backstory, don't worry.

It was hours from when Killian fell asleep until Liam’s return to the hotel, hours in which Emma paced the room, too distracted by Killian’s soft groans and rasping breaths to get any work done, too frustrated by what the brothers were clearly keeping from her to sit still at all.  The mission had been so much simpler on paper, at the briefing they’d attended back in London: get Gold’s bank records, follow the trail, and bring him back for trial.  Sure, she’d never actually been in the field, but she’d read her share of mission reports, she’d been involved in the technical aspects of hundreds of other cases for the CIA.  Hiccups were common, unforeseen complications came up, but this?

Killian’s gunshot wound should have scrapped the mission right away, or at least had him shipped back home, away from the danger.  But his stubborn refusal to leave, to let them treat his injury with more than antibiotics and a few pieces of gauze kept him still with them.  With his fever so high, she should be doing everything she could to get him out of there, get him treatment, as his brother wanted, threatened even.

Instead, she had offered to keep him on the case, find a way to get him to Australia with them, at the cost of potentially losing Liam.  All because she’d given Killian her word to trust him at his, that he would let her know when it was too much for him to handle.  Apparently he hadn’t reached that point and, judging by the mess of scars that littered his chest, maybe he _wasn’t_ lying when he said he’d survived worse.

If that wasn’t enough, there was also that strange connection between Gold and Killian, the connection Liam had told her about the night before, though she had no idea how deep it went.  Why the hell would Gold use Milah as his password?  Killian’s answer had been more cryptic than useful, and his body language when he said her name was even more mysterious.  It clearly hurt, for him to remember.  It hurt him to know that Gold had her name as the password.  She could only assume he’d figured out the location was Sydney because of Milah as well; it was her hometown and where the incorrect notes on his file said she’d transferred.  But she was gone, dead according to Liam, yet she kept coming up at every turn.

How could a ghost have so much power over a case that should have nothing to do with her?

A quiet moan from Killian interrupted her thoughts.  Walking to the bed, she placed a hand on his forehead.  So warm, _too_ warm, his skin ashen and coated in a fine sheen of sweat that was doing nothing to cool down his body.  He was clearly getting worse.  And there was nothing she could do about that.

“Killian?” she tried, touching his uninjured shoulder, the heat rolling off his skin.  “Killian, wake up.”

He didn’t wake, didn’t respond, aside from a quiet sigh as his head lolled to the side.

“Dammit.”  Even if she wanted to go against his wishes, the first aid kit didn’t contain any medication for reducing fevers.  She’d have to try and keep him cool the old fashioned way.

Pulling the chair beside the bed closer, she reached for the washcloth in the bowl of water on the bedside table, lightly wringing it out before running it along Killian’s chest and neck.  He gasped at the cold, his breath shuddered, but he didn’t open his eyes.  Avoiding the dark bruising around the bandage, she tried to ignore his shivering, ignore the feeling of her fingers occasionally brushing against the scars on his chest, and sponged him off as best she could.

Liam finally stepped in just as she was wringing out the cloth for the third time, two large bags in his hands.  She looked up, his jaw dropping open in surprise as he saw Killian.

“His shirt, he let you remove it?” he asked.  Emma nodded, not sure she was really ready to say anything to Liam she wouldn’t regret later.  She wasn’t angry at him for the earlier blowout, she understood his reaction completely.  Killian was being a stubborn idiot and she knew how much Liam cared about his younger brother.  But she was trusting these two to take care of her in this new world of field missions and, with one pretty much out of commission, Liam abandoning her so easily didn’t exactly make her feel safe.

He laid the bags against the bed as he shrugged out of his jacket.  “It’s just that he’s never let anyone see his… “  He trailed off, nodding toward his sleeping brother.  Grabbing the packages, he rounded the bed and sat in the chair opposite Emma.

He sighed and looked down at Killian, who groaned quietly in his sleep.  “How long has he been like this?”

Emma slid the cloth along Killian’s fevered skin.  It was easier to talk about Killian, for both of them.  “About an hour.  He was awake for a little while after you left,” she pointed avoided his gaze, “slept fine after that, but he started shivering and he won’t wake up.”

Liam pulled a container of juice and a bottle of pills from one of the bags -  what Emma could only assume were the stronger antibiotics.  Placing them on the bed, he reached over and tapped his brother’s cheek.

“Killian,” he said, more gently than she expected.  “Open your eyes, yeah?  I’m not wasting an apology on you if you’re going to sleep through it.”

Killian didn’t wake.

Liam opened the antibiotics and shook one out on his palm.  “Swallow this, little brother,” he muttered, lifting Killian’s head and pushing the pill past his brother’s lips.  He tipped the juice into Killian’s mouth and held him upright until the he swallowed weakly, his eyes still closed.  Another small sip, and Liam laid his brother’s head back down on the pillow.

Liam sank back in his chair, looking utterly defeated.  He looked at his brother, his lap, around the room, anywhere but at her. Wiping his hands over his face, he let out a long breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting Emma’s only briefly.  “I shouldn’t have walked out on you, on both of you.  It was… unprofessional, and it won’t happen again.”

 _Hell yeah, it was._  She dabbed at Killian’s face and neck in silence.

“I want to keep him safe, and it kills me that he won’t let me.  Sometimes I forget that he’s not the little boy I took care of all those years ago,” he continued, his gaze fixed on his hands as he smirked without a trace of humour.  “This case… it’s getting to Killian in ways I thought - I _hoped_ \- it wouldn’t, and I’m afraid I’m not quite willing to trust his judgement, not now.”

Emma sat in silence, thinking over everything she’d learned about the brothers that hadn’t been in their files.  Kabul.  Gold.  Milah.  Killian’s scars.  The ex-spy they were chasing and Killian’s ex-partner were definitely linked, in a way that made Killian react stronger than he had to anything so far.  And Milah had died in Kabul.  Was _all_ of it connected?  Would they ever tell her?  Did she even _need_ to know in order to complete the mission and get out of their lives forever, as Killian had said to Liam last night?

“I haven’t known you for very long,” she finally said, concentrating too hard on the cloth in her hand.  “And every time I think I learned something true about you two, you keep finding a way to change the rules on me.  Part of me is furious with you both, for lying, for hiding so much, and I don’t want to believe a word either of you have to say.”

She sighed, and looked up at Liam.  “But there’s some part of me that trusts Killian, or that wants to, anyway.  And I need to believe that he can choose this for himself, especially with the odds he knows we’re up against.  You know Gold better than me, but from what I’ve gathered, Killian’s the one with the stronger connection to him.  Maybe that's clouding his judgement, maybe he's not thinking straight.  But I need to trust that Killian knows what he’s doing.  And so do you.”

Liam nodded slowly, his eyes unreadable.  If he had noticed that she’d left out her feelings about trusting _him_ , he didn’t show it.  “You’re right, I do,” he allowed.  “But at some point, he may not be able to make decisions on his own, and I refuse to stand by while he lies here dying.”  He leaned forward in his chair, elbows propped on his knees.  “I’ll make you a deal.  We give him twenty-four hours and if he doesn’t show improvement by then, we’re taking him to a hospital and that’s final.”

Emma thought for a moment.  

“Forty-eight,” she countered, “it could take that long for the antibiotics take any noticeable effect.  We can afford to wait, as long as he doesn’t get any worse.”

The elder Jones regarded her silently, then nodded.  “Fine.  Forty-eight hours.”

She picked up the damp cloth and put it back into the bowl of now-lukewarm water as he leaned forward and pulled out a new package of gauze dressings and a fresh roll of medical tape, setting them out on the bed.  “I brought food,” he said, handing her one of the large bags.  “Soup’s for Killian, save some of the rest for me, yeah?”

Liam went to wash his hands while she took a container out of the bag and set it on the bed.  She grabbed her laptop and settled into the chair once again.  Killian panted quietly in his sleep, breaths shallow and short, but at least he wasn’t moaning anymore.

As Emma bit into the sandwich, she pulled up the program she’d been working on for the last day.  Thousands of lines of code danced across the screen.  She knew what it must look like to someone who didn’t understand the language, she knew it seemed like nonsense and randomness, but to her, the letters and numbers arranged so artfully and purposefully was almost like music, a song only she could hear clearly.  She loved learning the language of computers, loved finding out how software worked with all its secrets on display for her, loved finding flaws and making the programs even stronger.  It was a challenge, a puzzle.  But what she loved most was that the code never did anything unexpected.  It never changed its mind, never walked away from her, never lied.  If it was there, if it was in order, it worked.  And if it didn’t work, she could find the problem and make it work.  It was simple, elegant, impersonal, and she liked it that way.

She ran through a few hundred lines, checking it over for errors.  The code had to be absolutely flawless for the rest of their plan to work.  MI6 had given her the copy of the program Gold was using, the program he'd had stolen from them when he vanished from the intelligence service eight years ago.  Along with that, Liam had obtained the coding of a virus that would attack the servers Gold needed to run the program.  Without that network, Gold’s reach around the world would be severed.

It was her job to find a way to slip the virus into the original program in a place Gold would never detect.  Once she figured out where to insert the bug, all they needed to do was install the software on one of his personal computer terminals and the virus would do the rest - destroy his global network of contacts, his access to satellites around the world, all the predictive algorithms he used to detect where British and American agents were being sent.  His entire empire would collapse; he’d be unable to find the agents, much less arrange for them to be targeted, if she could only get the bug hidden deeply enough.

The only problem was that the virus she was given was so full of holes it was a wonder it compiled at all.  She kept finding obvious mistakes, as if someone had simply cut out huge swaths of important coding.  And if that wasn’t bad enough, she could swear new mistakes were cropping up on their own each time she ran through it.  Emma did her best to rebuild the broken sections by herself, but it was slow work and only added to her growing sense of dread.

Captain Nolan and Major Mills had warned her that going against Gold wouldn’t be a simple mission, that he was not to be underestimated.  Even the Jones brothers seemed worried about confronting him.  With everything else they had to figure out - getting on board the yacht, finding time to install the program, apprehending Gold and bringing him back for trial - she knew the virus had to be _perfect_ , and she only hoped she could do the job.

A sharp cry pulled her attention from the screen.  She looked over at the bed.  Liam was holding a bandage over Killian’s wound, his hand gently smoothing down the edges of the tape, just as he’d done every time he changed his brother’s dressing.  Every other time, though, Killian had been awake and determined to downplay how much it hurt.  This time, unconscious, there was no way for him to hold back his pain.

He cried out again, a short, pained sound as his head pushed back against the pillows, neck arching off the bed, and Emma’s heart clenched tightly in sympathy.  She saw the fingers of his good hand flexing, jumping, twitching at the sheets as Liam continued taping down the bandage, dark purple bruising peeking out around the edges of the white gauze.  Closing her computer, she reached over and slipped her hand under his, her fingers squeezing gently.  To her surprise, she felt his hand close around hers, squeezing it in return.  She quickly glanced up at his face, but his eyes were closed tightly as he grimaced.  He was still asleep, still in obvious pain, but the lines on his forehead eased slightly.

She didn’t let go.

Liam finished securing the bandage and Killian’s entire body relaxed, sinking against the mattress as his breath slowly evened out to the quiet panting she’d become used to.  Liam sat back with a soft sigh, of either relief or exhaustion, she wasn’t sure which.

“Why was Milah the password, Liam?” she found herself asking, her fingers still holding onto Killian’s hand.  “What does Gold have to do with her?”

Liam looked up at her, his expression indecipherable.  She waited, waited for him to either answer her or brush her off, waited to find out if he trusted her as much as Killian seemed to.  She thought he’d opened up to her last night on the porch.  She thought she had some answers for the brothers’ cryptic conversation, but all he’d given her was more questions, questions she now knew she definitely needed answers to.

But his next words nearly made her gasp out loud.

“Milah was Gold’s wife,” he said, his voice so quiet she almost had to strain to hear him over Killian’s uneven breathing.  He shrugged.  “At some point, anyway.  When Killian and I joined, they were in the middle of a messy divorce.  Milah took some time off from the department, and Gold needed a new partner.  He and Killian were matched up, but it didn’t go well, they were both too hard-headed.  When Milah came back, Killian was on the verge of walking out for good if he didn’t get a different partner.  They ran a few test cases together, which went amazingly well.  So the department head approved the transfer.”

Emma didn’t say a word.  She couldn’t even if she wanted to.  Gold’s _wife_?!  How had she missed that?  Was it even in their files?  The divorce must have been about ten years ago, when the Jones brothers joined MI6.  All the bits of information were spinning through her head as she tried to make sense of everything.

Liam continued.  “Gold was furious, he couldn’t stand to lose anything, and he felt he’d been made the fool by the entire service.  I don’t believe Milah and Killian working together was _the_ thing that made him run off, but it didn’t help.  He stuck around for a few months, but it wasn’t really a surprise when he left.  What _was_ a surprise was how much hatred he’d been harbouring against MI6, and spy agencies in general.  No one could have predicted he’d turn out like this, murdering agents in the field for cash.”

Liam gathered the empty packages from the bandages, wadding them up in a tight fist.  Staring down at his hand, he looked lost in thought, lost in memories Emma hated to bring up, memories she needed to understand.  He didn’t look at her when he finally spoke.

“I think, in a way, Killian feels responsible for Gold turning toward that dark side.  And after Milah…  Gold made it a point to get in touch with Killian, just once.  He made it clear that he held Killian responsible for Milah’s death, for bringing her on such a dangerous mission and being unable to protect her.”  He looked up quickly, meeting her eyes.  “It wasn’t Killian’s fault, not in the slightest, I assure you.  But I’m not sure how much _he_ knows that.”

Liam had given her a big piece of the puzzle, and with it came a greater understanding of the man lying asleep on the bed.  His swagger from that first meeting, his confidence and cockiness, had all been a front, while the fear she’d seen in his eyes was more the real Killian than anything else.  Emma tightened her grip on Killian’s hand, as if squeezing it while he was asleep could subconsciously let him know that she didn’t believe it was his fault, either.  

But despite the absolute honesty she felt in Liam’s words, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more he wasn’t telling her, more mysteries he had yet to reveal.  She had her answer about Milah, understood far too well why Killian’s reaction was what it was, and for now, that would have to be enough.

“The code’s almost done,” she said, suddenly anxious to switch to a safer topic, one that didn’t involve painful memories of loss and guilt.

Liam didn’t seem surprised by the sudden switch, almost as if he was expecting her to run from the past he so clearly didn’t want to talk about.  “How does it look so far?”

“Better, now,” she replied, flipping open the screen with one hand, the other still holding firmly to Killian’s.  “There were large portions missing, parts that would make it seem as though it worked, while leaving out the actual sections where we disable Gold’s network.  I think I’ve mostly reconstructed it, I still want to run through it again before we get to Sydney.”

He nodded.  “Good idea,” he said as he stood.  “I’m going to eat outside, if that’s all right with you?  Just let me know if Killian wakes up, I’ll be back soon to try and get him to drink more.”

Emma reached for her own sandwich, temporarily forgotten, as Liam took out the other take-away container and headed outside.  She took a bite, looked back at her screen, and got back to work.

* * *

Emma woke to the sound of voices in the room, just like the night before.  A quick glance at the glowing hands on her watch - 2:10 AM.  She listened, waiting to hear if Killian was finally awake, if there were any other secrets she could learn by remaining still.  But a choking sound got her up and across the room in seconds.

Killian was still asleep, his eyes squeezed shut as Liam held him almost upright, a cup to his mouth to catch the water that dribbled from his lips.  Killian coughed weakly, spitting out more water as he grimaced.  

“Dammit, Killian!” Liam muttered.  He put down the glass and wiped his brother’s chin with a towel.  

“Trying to get him to drink?” she asked quietly.  Liam looked up, clearly startled to see her standing there.

He shook his head.  “Antibiotic dose, only the idiot won’t swallow it.”  He grabbed the medicine bottle with one hand, shook out another pill, and lifted it to his brother’s lips.  “Come on, brother,” he said softly, slipping the small tablet onto Killian’s tongue.  He raised the glass and tipped the water into Killian’s mouth.

Killian sputtered, coughing violently as the water and the wet medicine shot from his mouth.  His whole body arched against his brother’s arm behind his neck as he cried out in pain.  Liam clenched his jaw tightly and wiped away the fresh water dripping onto Killian’s chest.

If Killian was too sick to take the medicine, Emma knew they’d have no choice but to take him to the hospital, to leave him behind.  As much as she wanted him to recover safely, she also knew he’d be furious, knew he’d count it as a betrayal and, though she didn’t really think she would ever see him again after this was all over, she didn’t really need to leave behind enemies.

“I’ll do it,” she said.  She didn’t wait for Liam to respond as she climbed onto the bed, slipping under Killian’s propped torso.  She held him against her chest, trying not to think too much about how his entire upper body tensed each time he pulled in a short breath, or the raised lines and knots and whorls of more scars she could clearly feel along the muscles of his back as she held him up.  His skin was hot with fever and his body trembled, shivering from both chills and infection.

Emma reached for one of the pills that had spilled onto the blanket, her other hand wrapping around to Killian’s heated forehead.  

“Killian, it’s me, it’s Emma,” she murmured softly, her fingers lightly threading through his sweat-dampened hair.  “Liam’s here too, we’re both really worried about you.”  Killian gasped quietly in his sleep, his head rolling to rest against her neck, but she didn’t stop stroking his face.  “I need you to take the medicine so you can get better, okay?  I need you to swallow it.”

He didn’t respond, but she didn’t really expect he would.  She took the tablet and pushed it into his mouth.  Liam passed her the cup of water, which she tilted against the unconscious man’s lips.

Killian swallowed.

“Good,” Emma grinned in relief.  “That’s good.  I’m giving you another sip, I need you to drink it, okay?”  She brought the cup to his mouth again, and again he swallowed the water.  Slowly, sip by sip, he managed to drain the cup, coughing only a few times, while Emma’s fingers gently brushed across his forehead the entire time.

She passed the empty glass back to Liam, who smiled slightly.  “I don’t remember learning the whole ‘whisper in the ear thing’ in basic training.  Well done, Agent Swan.”  And in a quieter, more serious voice, “Thank you.”

She nodded, relaxing a little where she sat, Killian’s too-warm weight still leaning against her.  Tremors shivered through his body, but his face was calm, signs of his earlier distress gone.  For the first time, she could see him without his mask, without the facade he maintained while he was awake, and he seemed so… young.  He was only a handful of years older than her anyway, but he gave off a sense of having seen far too much for his years, far too much he’d experienced for his age, especially now that she knew some of what he had been through.  It was almost peaceful, holding him like this, her fingers running through his hair as he slept.

“He’s still so warm,” she said softly, looking at Liam.

“I know, I was going to try sponging him off after,” the elder Jones replied.  He raised an eyebrow.  “Unless you want to do that, too?”

Emma didn’t mind the job, didn’t mind sacrificing her sleep to help make sure Killian would be okay.  But it almost seemed like Liam needed to spend that time alone with his brother, both to take care of him and to monitor for signs of improvement or worsening in his condition.  If they were going to survive this, she knew she needed them on the same team again, a united front against the monster they were chasing.

“You can do it,” she said, shaking her head.  “I should go back to sleep, I keep seeing that damn code every time I close my eyes.”

He smirked and moved to help her lower Killian back to the bed as she got out from under him.  Once he was settled, she said goodnight to both the Jones brothers, and went back to bed.

She fell asleep the soft sounds of Liam whispering quietly, soothingly, to his younger brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews? Comments? Any good jokes you've heard lately?


	6. Hit for Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEAVY backstory here, not for the faint of heart, proceed with caution! But I promise things are looking up for our favourite spies, and the action and adventure is coming next!

Killian came awake slowly, feeling almost as if he was rising up to the surface of the ocean after swimming for so long beneath the water.  His eyelids were heavy, almost too heavy to open on his own.  He managed to pull them up, but the light of the outside world was too bright, vague voices in the room that he had no strength to answer.  Letting his eyelids fall, he slipped back down under the waves, where it was quiet, dark, and nothing hurt.

The next time he tried to open his eyes, the room was still bright, but the leaden weights that kept his eyelids closed weren’t quite as immovable.  His shoulder throbbed, chest ached with each shallow breath he took, but it seemed almost far away, as if he’d left the pain at the shore while he went for his swim in sleepy waters.  Killian blinked in the harsh light, waited to get used to it after spending what felt like days in the dark.  Maybe it _had_ been days, he wasn’t really sure.

He _was_ sure of the person sitting in the chair at his bedside, a computer open on his lap.

“Liam,” he breathed.  He struggled to pull in more air, his body so tired, every muscle weary and sluggish, his eyes drifting shut on their own.  “You came back.”

“Aye,” he heard the smile in his brother’s voice.  “I’m here.”

A few moments passed, maybe minutes, maybe hours, he didn’t know for sure.  The pain grew steadily worse the longer he stayed awake, but it still wasn’t quite as bad as that first night.  He looked over at Liam, away from the ice pack firmly settled against where his neck met shoulder.

“M’sorry,” Killian mumbled, trying to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time.  “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

Liam laughed.  “No you’re not.”

Killian grinned weakly.  “Aye, I’m not.”  He frowned as the memories of their argument filtered in.  “But I am sorry you don’t believe in me,” he said, even quieter than before.

“Killian, I…”  Liam sighed and placed his hand on Killian’s cheek.  “I _do_ believe in you, I’m sorry I made you feel like I don’t.  You’re the strongest person I know, and _that’s_ what worries me so much.  I can’t have you rushing into this, not when you’re hurt and not thinking straight.  I can’t let anything to happen to you, I _can’t_.  Not again.”

Killian nodded, his movements still so tired, then slowly smiled.  “Now who’s the one getting mushy?”

Liam tapped his cheek with a groan and sat back.  “Insufferable idiot,” he muttered without any bite.

“Stubborn ass,” Killian murmured.

“Not more than you, brother.”

Killian grinned again, then started to turn his head to look for the other member of their party.

“She’s asleep,” Liam said.  “She was up helping me take care of you during the night.”  He paused, regarding his brother over the laptop screen.  “It’s good to see you awake, brother.”

Killian nodded, then let his eyes fall closed.  He was exhausted, so very-

A flash of pain across his arm brought him back to alertness, fast.  He grimaced, biting back any sound that might’ve escaped, his good hand gripping the blankets as he breathed through the pain and waited - hoped - for it to pass.

“Killian?” Liam asked quietly.  “What’s wrong?”

He took a few breaths before answering, his eyes squeezed shut.  “Arm… hurts…” he grit out.

He heard Liam put down the laptop, felt the mattress sag as his brother sat beside him on the bed.  “Tell me where,” Liam said, voice calm.

Killian let out a ragged breath, shards of pain still lodged in his arm.  “Shoulder,” he wheezed, “and downward.”

He watched his brother reach for his throbbing arm, Liam’s fingers lightly brushing across his stomach as he took hold of his left wrist, lifted it in his-

“Wait,” Killian gasped, his good hand lashing out, grabbing onto his brother’s.  “Wait.”

Liam didn’t move.  

Killian fought for breath, fought to push the pain away so he could concentrate, so he could _feel._  “My hand,” he mumbled, as the agonising throbbing up past his elbow melted away into the background.  “I can feel my hand.”

“You feel this?” Liam raised an eyebrow, both of his hands holding Killian’s as he squeezed each finger in turn, then flexed his fingers into a loose fist.  

“Yeah,” he replied softly, amazed as he watched his brother bend his hand.  He could feel it, he could _feel_ it.  Killian let out a short laugh.  “Yeah, I can.”

“Can you move your fingers?” Liam asked, letting his hand rest limply in his grasp.  Killian tried, he tried focusing on moving the entire hand, then each finger individually.  Slowly, ever so slowly, his index finger twitched against his brother’s palm, his middle one after that.

Killian grinned at his brother in relief, sagging back onto the pillow.  He almost couldn’t believe it.  When he’d lost sensation in the hand, he was sure there would be permanent damage - nothing lucky had ever happened to him before, why should this be any different?  Despite Liam’s reassurance, despite his brother’s insistence on packing his shoulder with ice to reduce the swelling, he was pretty convinced his hand was as good as gone, only a combination of painful surgeries and more painful therapies would restore even the most basic function.

But if he could move it now, if he could feel his brother’s hand against his, then perhaps the damage wasn’t as bad as he thought.

He yawned shallowly, the happiness fading into sheer exhaustion the longer he stayed awake.  Liam noticed and gently laid his hand back down across his stomach.

“Rest,” the older Jones said quietly.  “Your fever only broke a couple of hours ago, you still need to regain your strength.”

Killian barely had the energy to nod, as his eyes slid closed once more.

* * *

He woke later, much later, the curtains drawn against an already darkened sky.  Emma sat on his left, gently tugging at the bandage taped to his chest.  He winced, managing no more than that small expression despite feeling like everything ached all over again, but of course she saw that anyway.

“Sorry,” she said, easing her finger under the tape to wriggle it free from his chest hair.  “I’m not so good at this.”

“It’s okay,” Killian murmured.  “How long was I out?”

“A little more than a day,” she replied absently.  “But Liam said you were awake before?”

He nodded, and looked around the room.  “Where is he?”

“Sleeping.  His turn to crash.  He stayed up the longest with you, trying to bring down your fever all night.”   _Oh_.  “He also said you can move your hand again?” she asked tentatively, removing the last of the bandage as she spoke.

“Aye,” he said with a touch of pride, a twinge of relief, as he twitched his fingers in demonstration, grateful that the slight recovered sensation still remained.  They barely moved more than they had earlier, just a little jump from where they lay across his belly, but it was something.  Emma saw, her eyes wide as she turned back to him.

“Killian, that’s great!” she exclaimed.  “I’m so happy for you!”

“It’s a start,” he agreed.   _Hopefully only to improve, and fast_ , he thought, worry beginning to replace some of his elation.  He knew they had a few days to wait, Gold most likely wasn’t going anywhere so fast, but he couldn’t help the anxiety building steadily in his gut, the need to _do_ something instead of just lying in bed all day long with a few trips to the bathroom as his only excursions.  He needed to be out there, following their leads to take down Gold once and for all.

She carefully spread a layer of antibacterial cream on the entry wound and he hissed at the contact.  “Sorry,” she mumbled again.  “I told you I’m terrible at this.  Besides, after a couple weeks, this will just be one more scar for your collection.”

Wait, what?  Did she think this was some kind of _joke,_ some game where he deliberately endangered himself to get as many battle wounds as possible, something to show off to the lads back home?  Was that _really_ how little she thought of him?  It was bad enough that Liam wasn’t a hundred percent convinced of his ability to be a part of the rest of the mission, but now her too?  He thought she trusted him, he thought he could rely on her as well.  Clearly he’d been so wrong.

“You know what, Swan?  Leave it,” he said crossly, shifting his head to the other side.  “Don’t worry about me.  I’ll be fine.”

For a moment, he regretted saying the words she’d asked him not to.  For a moment, he almost apologised, certain he was overreacting, a combination of confinement to the bed and the need to get moving against Gold surely wearing on his nerves.  But where did she have the right to assume that it was just for himself, his own glory, that all the scars he hid in shame were some kind of _trophy_ to commemorate such meaningless victories over death?  He’d never given her that impression, he didn’t know where the hell she got off making such accusations.

Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke, low and soft, though her words were anything but.  

“I was abandoned on the side of the road as a baby.  Left wrapped in a blanket as if I was nothing when I was only a few days old.”

He turned back to her, to see her, to know if what she was saying was true.  But he didn’t need to see the fire burning behind her green eyes to know that it was.  He opened his mouth to say something, to apologise, to take back the words he swore not to say to her, but it was too late, and this time she didn’t give him another chance.

“I was put into foster care, shuffled through the system, alone, unwanted.  And everywhere I went, everyone always told me - caseworkers, foster parents, even the other kids - they all said the same thing.  ‘Don’t worry about it, You’ll be fine, Emma,’ they said.  Nice little blonde girl, cute, adorable.  Someone will adopt me, someone will come for me.  ‘You’ll be fine,’ they said.  You know what?  No one ever came for me, I was too lost for anyone to want me.”

“Swan, I-” he tried, but she cut him off, her eyes flashing as she chanced a look at him, just one, before she went back to laying out the tape for his bandage, her movements brusque, angry.

“Then Neal.  See, I ran away from the last foster home I was in, ran away because the father there wanted me a little _too_ much, and no one even cared anymore whether I was there or not.  So I ran, and found Neal.  He took me in, he gave me a job, a _purpose_.  But more than that, he said he _loved_ me, he said he _needed_ me.  After all those years of being unloved, I thought it was too good to be true, that no one would ever love me.  But I wanted it so badly, I wanted to believe him.  And when he left me behind holding the evidence while he ran, when he got off and I got put away for his crime, do you know what his last words were?”

She didn’t pause, she didn’t let him guess, but he had a feeling he knew _exactly_ what they were.

“He said, ‘Don’t worry, Emma.  Your first time offence, don’t worry.  You’ll be fine.’  And he left, just like everybody else in my life, like I was still nothing, and I went off to jail for it.”

“Emma,” Killian tried again.  He wanted so badly for her to stop, he wanted to make up for the hurt he clearly caused in his anger, the pain the memories clearly brought for her.  But she wasn’t listening, didn’t want to hear him, her voice hard and tone short as she continued.

“A year ago, I was finally happy, finally okay with who I was, being alone.  This field agent showed up in my office, laptop shot all to hell, and he needed some of the files retrieved.  He flirted with me while I worked and soon he was making up more and more ridiculous reasons to come visit me in my office.  He asked me on a date after a month, and it took another two months before I agreed to let him take me out.  It wasn’t love, it wasn’t anything like that, it was just…. nice.  He was sweet, kind, he cared about me way more than I could admit caring about him, but it was something new for me, something I was willing to try.  Then four months ago, two months after agents started dying and disappearing in the field, a really important mission came up, somewhere in Moscow, and Graham volunteered, he _wanted_ to go despite all the dangers.”

 _Oh no,_ thought Killian in sudden clarity, remembering the case files he’d studied too hard over the past six months, and that one in particular.   _No…_

Emma must have seen his face, seen the recognition in it.

“Yeah, Graham.  Graham Humbert.  Killed in action three days later.  I had begged him not to go, not to volunteer, that it wasn’t his job to rush off into danger, they should use local contacts, not him, not when it was so dangerous.  The last thing he said to me, the night before his hotel room exploded in a grenade attack, after I tried to convince him to come back home, was ‘Don’t worry, Emma.  I’ll be fine.’  I wasn’t important enough for him to listen to me and I got left behind.  Again.”

She finally met his eyes, and he couldn’t help but see how broken she looked, as if her revelation cost her more than just the stories she’d shared, but some of herself as well.  But there was still anger in her gaze, anger more than rightfully directed at him.  She leaned forward, pressing the fresh bandage not at all carefully against his bruised chest, but the hurt he felt for her, the amount of pain he felt responsible for digging up from her past was almost more than the sharp ache he felt as she taped down the edges.

“So yeah, you don’t get to tell me that, Killian,” she said, finishing with the gauze and sitting back in the chair.  “You don’t get to lie there, just _hours_ after coming down from 104 degree delirium and say, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.’  Not after all the lying you and Liam have been doing since the first _minute_ I met you both.  You’ve been hiding _everything_ from me, and I didn’t push, I gave you my word to trust you and I did, I was the _only_ one around here who did.  But now I think I deserve a little more than all the lies you’ve told me.”

He couldn’t help his own anger bubbling up inside to meet hers, and he was once again floored by just how little he knew about this woman beside him, despite baring her history to him just a minute ago.  She was furious with him, blasting him for breaking his promise not to brush her off, and yeah, he would admit he was wrong to throw the words back into her face, at the very least callous and petty.  And the reasons behind her mistrust - he felt for her, felt truly awful for all the things she had suffered during her life, and on some level he could relate to that amount of loss and heartbreak.  But to demand the truth from him then, truths he hid for a reason, truths she promised not to push from him, she had no right.  She had no _idea_ what she was asking for.

“Please,” he muttered angrily, looking away.  “You couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps _you’re_ the one who can’t handle it,” she spat back.

“You really want to know?” he seethed, turning to her.

She crossed her arms in the chair.  “I think you owe me an explanation, after all the crap I’ve had to put up with from the both of you.”

 _To hell with it_.

“Fine,” he said, glaring at her.  “Kabul, five years ago.  Milah and I were sent in to test new MI6 protocols, Liam on an unrelated mission.  We travelled together, made more sense that way.  Agents often worked in pairs, we’d be more inconspicuous with him along.  I got roughed up by local police that evening, nothing major, just they don’t like cocky Brits asking too many questions.  I came back to the flat, took some painkillers because I didn’t want to feel, because I couldn’t be _bothered_ to deal with a few bruises.”

He looked up at the ceiling, unable to meet her gaze, chest heaving slightly as the force of his words caught up with him, the story spilling from his mouth almost beyond his control.  Almost.

“I went to sleep.  They came for us soon after, terrorists in the region, new cell we were looking into.  I was still…” he swallowed.  “I was still asleep, didn’t wake up until they tossed me and Liam into a van and drove us out of town.  Milah wasn’t with us, and no one would answer me when I demanded to know where she was.  We drove for hours, until we got to some abandoned brick hut in the middle of nowhere.  They locked us into a tiny cell, no windows, nothing in there but a bucket and mouldy food scraps in the corner.”

Killian didn’t look at her.  Couldn’t look at her, really, couldn’t stand to see what she might think about all of it, what he’d said, what was to come.  The words rushed out faster than he could hold them in, harder to say, but he didn’t stop, _couldn’t_ stop, not after keeping it inside for all those years.

“They dragged us out a few hours later, I was still groggy from the painkillers, but not for long, not after I saw where they were taking us.  A larger room, completely bare beside a few pieces of furniture, some weapons in the corner, and bloodstains on the floor.  They immediately tied Liam to a chair off to the side.  He fought them, but it was five of them against the two of us, there was nothing he could do, nothing either of us could do.”

He finally turned to her, ignoring how her eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting to hear all this.  He wanted to care, wanted to stop, but he knew he couldn’t, knew he was too far into it to just fall silent now.  She wanted to understand?  Well, here he was, telling her exactly what she wanted to know.  

His eyes narrowed as he continued, “You see, it was _Liam_ they wanted all along, _Liam_ who had the information they needed, the mission protocols, the access codes.  Me and Milah?  We were just bonus, extra.  Something they could _use_.”

He turned to look back up at the textured ceiling, swallowing hard.

“They hung me from chains in the middle of the room, and beat me to get Liam to talk.  I begged him not to say a word, it was too important.  I could take it, I could live with it, even if they had to kill me.  He screamed at them to stop, but it just made them laugh and hit harder.  They heated up these… these metal rods, held them against my skin, burning me with them.”  Killian ignored her quiet gasp, pointing instead to the mottled knots of scar tissue in various places on his chest.  “Here, over there, a few on my back, my legs.  Liam shouted and swore at them, but he never told them anything they wanted.”

Killian closed his eyes for a moment, the memories assaulting him almost as vividly as if he was back there again, screaming, shaking while strung up from the ceiling, _breaking_ , while Liam had to watch him fall apart.  He was trembling - not from fever this time but the strength of everything he was bringing back up, everything he wanted desperately to forget.  Emma was quiet, he wasn’t really sure whether she was even listening anymore or if he’d scared her off for good, just like everyone else he’d worked with, everyone else who’d requested a transfer before getting to know him, who would have run away twice as fast if they had.  It was a miracle she’d stayed as long as she had, put up with him this long, really.  He never expected her to make it past that first meeting, when he’d deliberately tried to push her away from the start.

But she didn’t run then, and from the soft sounds of crying he heard suddenly at his side it seemed she wasn’t running now, either.  They’d sent him to psychologists, after he got back.  Countless had tried to get him to open up, while he remained stubbornly silent on their couch.  He didn’t really know why she was able to get this story out of him, why she was the one he opened up to, even in anger.  But he’d started, and now she deserved to hear the rest.  

His voice dropped as he continued where he’d left off, determined to tell her, to finish telling _someone_.  “They threw us back into the cell later, I don’t even know how much later, I was barely conscious anymore.  Liam tried to tend my wounds but there was nothing there, nothing he could use…  He ripped his own shirt into bandages.  But it didn’t matter.

“They came back, hours later, and just cut off the makeshift bandages anyway, tied him back into the chair, secured me to those chains again.  This time, they electrocuted me, I couldn’t even see straight after a few rounds, but they kept…”  He gulped, almost feeling the shocks running through his body, the way he’d convulsed against the restraints holding him, the agony so much, _too_ much.  “They kept going, just kept going, they didn’t stop until I passed out.”

“They whipped me after that, with chains, until my entire body was broken and bleeding, most of the rest of the scars you can see.  I don’t even know how I wasn’t dead at that point.  I _should_ have been dead, I wanted it, it hurt so much.  Liam had screamed himself hoarse by then, begged to take my place, but he refused to tell them anything, and that was all that mattered.  Every time they threw us back in the cell, Liam did his best to care for me, but there wasn’t much he could, I was so far gone.  My clothing was ripped to shreds, there wasn’t even enough left to use as bandages.  Liam… he just... he held me while I drifted in and out of consciousness.”  

Killian took a short breath.  “The third day, I was barely alive anymore, hanging there, my shoulders both separated from the joint, skin burned, bleeding from a hundred places.  That’s when they brought her in.  Milah.”

Emma let out a quiet sob, but he couldn’t face her, couldn’t see, his own pain too great to deal with hers, to see the pity in her eyes for him.  

“They’d beaten her,” he managed softly, his voice shaking as he spoke, the words halting, refusing to come almost, “for absolutely no reason, she knew none of the information they wanted.  They laid her out on the table right next to me, so close I could almost…  I couldn’t reach her, I couldn’t… “ he gasped, gritting his teeth, his eyes closed tightly, desperately trying to calm down, to finish.  “The leader took out a dagger, and he… he cut out her heart right in front of me, and there was nothing I could do but watch.

“I lost it, went completely mad, screaming and thrashing against the chains.  I broke then, watching that, watching _her_ , I had no idea how Liam stayed so strong the whole time, no idea how he never told them anything while watching them torture me, and I knew I’d never have been able to switch with him and last as long as he did.  They hit me, knocked me out, and the next time I woke up, I was in the hospital unit of a British Army base 50 miles away.  The extraction team had come not long after Milah was killed, too late for her.  They couldn’t even bring back her body.”

Killian finally opened his eyes, looked at Emma, his eyes dry only because of the anger that still coursed through him at the memories, the fire that burned away all his tears.  But Emma… she was openly weeping, her hands over her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Is that what you wanted to know, Swan?” he asked quietly, feeling oddly empty, weary, but also almost… relieved to have shared it, despite her probable desire to run from him and never look back.  “Or did you also want to hear how much I loved her, how we were engaged to be married later that year, just how much of me died on a mission that never, technically, happened?”

Emma took a shaky breath, tears still falling as she wiped her hands across her face.  “I’m sorry, Killian,” she whispered hoarsely.  “I had no idea, I shouldn’t have…”

He shook his head, let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.  “No, _I’m_ sorry, it was too much, I shouldn’t have burdened you with my memories.”  It was too much for _him_ most of the time, he shouldn’t have told her, shouldn’t have tossed it into her face as some kind of punishment for his own petulant behaviour.

“I had no right,” he said quietly.  “I promised you not to tell you I’m fine, not to dismiss you, and you deserved my respect, not some childish tantrum.  You trusted me, more than anyone has in a long time, more than I thought I deserved, and I blew it.  I’m so sorry.”

She nodded silently, didn’t say anything for a long while as she calmed.

“He’s wrong, you know,” she said, voice soft as she looked up from her lap.  “Gold.  You weren’t responsible for Milah.  He’s wrong.  It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, I know,” he swallowed thickly.  He did know, but she had been so close to him, so very… if he had just lasted a little longer, if the painkillers hadn’t been as strong, if he hadn’t taken them in the first place, hadn’t pissed off the local police force to begin with.  If, if, if, the worst torture of all.

“But they were wrong about you, too, Swan,” he murmured, sleep insistently pulling at him, trying to tug him below the surface once more.  “You’re not nothing, you were _never_ nothing, despite what you felt.  We need you here,” he cleared his throat quietly, “ _I_ need you.  I haven’t…”  He paused, collected his thoughts against the rising exhaustion.  “I haven’t told anyone what happened there.  I couldn’t… I couldn’t say the words out loud and… no one cared anyway.  I’m sorry I told you like that, but I… I’m glad you know.  I’m glad I told you.  Because I _do_ trust you, you’re different than all the others, and I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone, and that scares the hell out me.”

Killian grinned a little, and was shocked to see her return the expression.  After everything he’d done to her, pushed her away, yelled at her, dumped his life’s woes onto her lap, she was still smiling, still there, not running away from him.

“I’m terrified,” Emma confided softly, looking away at first, but gradually meeting his eyes.  “I’ve been terrified since we started, since we broke in at the bank that night.  I’m so out of my element here, I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing half the time, the computer coding is the only thing I’m really good at.”

She shrugged, continuing before he could interrupt.  “There’s something about you, something… different.  I _want_ to trust you, I wanted to right away, and that scared _me_.  I’m not really good at trusting people, not after…”  She smiled again, as if her smile could wipe away the pain of her life.  “I want to believe you’re different than all of them.”

Killian couldn’t help noticing that she said ‘want’ and not ‘wanted’, that she still was willing to try and put up with him, even after all that, and after everything they’d both revealed, it was that hope she had in him, in _them_ , that finally filled his eyes with tears.

“I can’t promise I’ll be perfect from now on, but I’ll try my best,” he said, blinking back the moisture in his eyes.  “Just smack me if I slip up again.”  She grinned wider, ducking her head a bit in a nod.

“We’ll find Gold,” he added.  “He’ll pay for what he did to Graham, to the others.  We won’t let him get away, not this time.  And Emma?”  He waited for her to look up at him.  “I’ll never leave you.  I can swear to you on that.”

“Thank you,” she nodded, blushing slightly.

She looked across him, gasped quietly as she noticed the clock at the side of the bed.  “Dammit, I promised Liam I wouldn’t keep you awake for too long,” she said quickly, hastily grabbing at the medical supplies and stuffing the leftovers back into the open drawer of the nightstand.  She leaned across him to pull up the blankets, and he took his chance, reached out his hand to hold onto hers tightly.

“No,” he murmured sleepily.  “Thank you.  For being here, for sticking around.”

Her fingers rubbed against his and he had the strangest feeling he’d held her hand before, he recognised the lines and soft bumps of her skin against his, though he couldn’t place exactly _how_ he knew.  He felt her fingers squeeze his tightly, saw her gentle smile before his eyes closed completely.

And just before he fell asleep, he flexed the fingers of his left hand, just because he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit for Six - means to be suddenly and unexpectedly overwhelmed
> 
> Reviews? Comments? Favourite movie that starts with the letter B?


	7. Lucky Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised you action, I hope this delivers! Things are going to move quickly from now on, so grab a buddy, hang on, and enjoy the ride!

**** “Come on, Emma,” Emma muttered quietly to herself, leaving the sink running as she glared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, water running down her face.  “What the hell are you so scared of?”

She had woken early, unable to sleep much while worrying about the final stage of the case - so many problems with not enough answers.  The code still had too many issues; it was proving easier to build it from scratch than try to fix it any further.  Gold was still out there, somewhere in Sydney, maybe actively plotting against another of her fellow agents in the field somewhere, maybe just lying low for a bit after his last murder three weeks before.  Killian could still get worse again, his wound not even close to being healed, and the bullet was still trapped  _ somewhere _ inside him.

Overall, the mission was still far from a guaranteed success.

Liam had gotten up about an hour ago, surprised to find her already awake.  After checking in with headquarters, he’d stepped out to pick up breakfast and more medical supplies for their trip to Australia.  She stared at the scrolling lines of programming on her laptop after he left, trying to figure out how to make it all work any way she could, her confidence slowly returning with each new routine she inserted easily into the coding.

But when Killian had begun to stir in his bed, her immediate impulse was to hide.  She’d ducked into the small hotel bathroom, started the shower as she sat on the closed toilet seat, waiting, thinking, deciding.  She didn’t want to face him, not after everything he’d told her about his scars, not after everything she’d told him about her own.  It was almost as if they’d been  _ too _ honest with each other, and she felt as if she was laid bare before him, she was sure he would probably feel the same around her.

_ Oh, God, _ she groaned inwardly, washing her face for the fourth time, hoping the cool water would wash away some of her embarrassment.  She had never revealed so much of herself at once, never let it gush out like that, not even when angry.  Hell, it took nearly four months with Graham until she could admit to him that she’d grown up in the foster system!  How had Killian gotten so much out of her - and by being an  _ ass _ , no less - after only knowing her for a few days?

And why, deep down, didn’t she mind that he knew?

Emma finally shut off the water to both the shower and the sink, dried her hands on the rough hotel towel, and looked at herself in the mirror,  _ really _ looked.  She was tired, shallow bags under her eyes looking back at her, that could be it.  Thrown into an unfamiliar situation in a strange country, chasing the same threat that had brought down her former boyfriend.  That could definitely be why she wasn’t as careful with her past as usual.

Or maybe it was that Killian’s scars - those carved in both skin and memory - were so much worse than hers, that she didn’t  _ need _ to hide who she was around him, because he was really able to understand without dismissing away her own pain.  Maybe he  _ did  _ mean it, when he’d promised to be honest with her in the car that first night, only he didn’t have any practise with someone trusting  _ him _ in return.

And maybe that was something she understood only too well.

A low groan from out in the main room caught her attention.  

_ Now or never _ .  Emma took a deep breath, set her jaw, and stepped out of the bathroom.

Killian was sitting at the edge of the bed, head down, left arm across his lap as he held onto the bedding with his other hand for dear life.  The purple bruising around his bandage was starting to redden at the edges as it slowly healed, and his skin wasn’t quite as pale as it had been just a day ago, though from the way his arm was trembling, it was taking more than a little effort to stay upright.  He looked about to topple over - how he’d even gotten in this position, she had no idea.

He looked up at her as she walked into the room, his bright blue eyes a startling mix of emotion that matched her own - the fear of being so exposed to another while still hoping that the other person didn’t want to run away.  But then his lips turned up in a gentle smile, and she couldn’t help but return one of her own.  

_ At least we’re in this together. _

“How’re you feeling?” she asked quietly, not sure what else to say.

“Better,” he nodded slowly, then swallowed hard.  “Dizzy.”

“You haven’t eaten much the last few days,” she said, keeping all traces of her earlier worry from her voice.  She crossed to the small fridge, pulled out a small bottle of orange juice, and handed it to him.  “Liam wanted you to drink this.  And the other three in the fridge.”

Killian winced, then grinned.  “Ganging up on  _ me  _ now?  I see why he didn’t like it.”  He shook his head, grabbing his left arm at the elbow and holding it close.  “I need to use the loo first.”

He tried to stand, she’d give him points for that later.  But with the way his jaw was clenched, his face blanching alarmingly at the slight movement, he looked as if he was about to throw up or pass out.  Or both.

“I can help, if you don’t want to end up flat on your face on the floor,” she offered, placing the juice on the desk.

He sank back onto the bed, looking up at her as he tried valiantly to wipe the pain from showing on his face.  “Aye,” he murmured.  “Please.”

Emma slipped beside him, her arm wrapped around his back to hold his waist, fingers gripping the top of the pajama pants Liam had wrestled him into as he slept.  Her other hand held steady along the side that was pressed against her, her cheeks warming from the heat from his body so close to hers.  It wasn’t fever, his temperature had dropped to normal levels the night before.  It was just… him.

Together, they stood and managed to hobble across the room to the bathroom.

“I think I can take care of myself inside,” Killian grunted at the doorway.

“You better.  I’m not getting paid enough for  _ that _ ,” she joked, trying for lighthearted.  He smirked and closed the door.

Emma stayed outside, just in case.  She tried to ignore the muffled grunts and soft groans he made in the room, wondering if she  _ should _ have offered to help, then blushed furiously at the thought.  She  _ definitely _ wasn’t ready for  _ that _ level of closeness.

The toilet flushed and she waited for the sink to run, the door to open, something.  But there was no sound from inside.  Fearing the worst, she tapped on the door and called his name softly.

No answer.

Knocking harder, she turned the handle and slowly pushed in the door, afraid of what she’d find.  The door opened to the mirror over the sink, and she could clearly see his face reflected back toward her, his eyes etched in dark shadows, skin pale in the harsh fluorescent lights as he leaned over the sink.  His gaze shifted to hers through the mirror, and he huffed out a short laugh.

“I really do look awful,” he said quietly.  “No wonder you and Liam were so worried.”

“Yeah, pretty sure you’ve seen better days,” she replied, then immediately regretted it as a slow blush spread across his cheeks.  He ducked his head, studying his hand where it gripped the sink's edge.

Was this how it was going to be with them from now on?  Her knowing too much about him, always scared of bringing up his past by accident, him pretending not to think about all the history he'd shared with her?  Did he already regret telling her?

A quiet laugh drew her from her thoughts.  “Aye,” he grinned up at her.  “That I have.  But at least I’ll be devilishly handsome again once this is all over.”  He winked, the same wink she remembered from that first meeting that felt a million years ago, when she’d decided he was just a cocky hot-shot not worth her time, when he had dismissed her as not good enough for the field.

She rolled her eyes, though the smile of relief on her lips firmly betrayed her.  “Let’s get your hand washed,” she said, stepping into the bathroom to turn on the sink, “before you make  _ me  _ want to throw up.”

She helped him awkwardly rinse his hand, waited while he splashed some water on his face, and passed him a towel.  Settling back at his side, she helped him out to the main room.  “Chair,” he muttered through clenched teeth.  Once seated, his left arm resting on a pillow she brought over, his colour more or less back to whatever passed for normal, she passed him the open container of orange juice and a dose of antibiotics.

“Drink it,” she said firmly.  “All of it.”  He nodded and popped the pills into his mouth.  She made sure he took a sip before setting in the chair at the desk and sliding her computer onto her lap, watching him over the top of the screen.

Killian was still pale but not nearly as much as before, the white lines of scar tissue across his chest stood out in sharper contrast than they had over the last day, now that he had some of his colour back.  He wasn’t gasping for air anymore, though his breaths were shallower and faster than they should have been.  She watched as he moved the fingers of his left hand, alternately flexing and opening each one in turn, noticed the slight grin on his face as he stared down at his moving hand.

“You really are feeling better?” she asked quietly, startling him.

He glanced up, flashed her a grin that sent his dimples deep in his cheeks.  “Aye.”  He shifted somewhat, biting back a groan.  “Still pretty tired and sore, but now that the nerve pain seems to be gone, it’s much better.”  Killian tipped the container of juice to his lips and took a long pull.  Resting the bottle against his legs, he asked quietly, “What about you?  How’s the virus coming?”

She looked down at her screen, at the lines that stubbornly refused to do what she asked of them, though they should have been speaking the same language.  For a moment, she wondered just how much of her fears she should reveal to him.

But only for a moment.

“I’ll be honest, but can we keep this between us for now?” she asked, moving over to the bed beside his chair.  “I don’t want Liam to think I can’t do this.”

He nodded.  “Aye, what’s up?”

“I don’t really know what’s going on.”  She pointed to her screen, to the sections that needed to be fixed that she’d marked off in red.  “See those?  Those are holes in the code, subroutines and parameters that _ should  _ have been there.  But there’s nothing there, just a ‘start’ and ‘end’ command with nothing in between.”

Emma scrolled down the screen quickly, showing him just how many red areas there were, noting how his eyes widened in surprise.  “There are about twenty of these left.  And I’ve already fixed at least thirty of them, some a few times.”

“A few times?”

She nodded.  “There’s some definition further down that keeps changing everything back the way it was.  Every time I try to change  _ that _ something else goes wrong.  I have no idea where this virus came from, but it’s almost like it doesn’t  _ want _ to work, no matter what I try.”

Killian frowned, watching quietly as the lines of code scrolled down the screen.  “So what can we do about it?”

She shrugged, closing the screen.  “I’ve been trying to build my own virus, based on the software Gold stole from MI6 - similar to this one, but better structured and able to worm into that program easier.  It’s slow, but at least I know where everything is and what it’s doing, and so far it’s not deleting itself right in front of my eyes.”

“Good plan,” he nodded.  “Do you think it’ll be ready in time.”

“I hope so.”

“If anyone can do it, I’m sure you could,” he grinned.

Emma returned the grin, blushing slightly.  But her expression quickly fell as she bit her lip nervously, wondering if now was the time to tell him or not.  On the one hand, they were alone, finally, and not likely to have much time without Liam over the next few days.  On the other, she didn’t want to hurt him any more than she already had.  She’d promised him honesty, as much as she could, and he deserved to know, but she wasn’t sure now was the best time to deal with the repercussions.

“Killian, can I ask you something?” she asked, her mouth moving almost on its own.  Apparently, her lips had decided for her.  Wonderful.

“Of course, anything.”

“I was ju-”

The door opened suddenly as Liam stepped inside the room, bags in both arms and a tray with two large coffees balanced in one hand.  She closed her mouth, shaking her head quickly, silently begging Killian not to pursue it.  He raised an eyebrow quizzically, but he didn’t push, turning instead to the doorway.  

_ I’m such an idiot _ , she berated herself.  Of  _ course _ Liam would be back right in the middle.  Standing to hide her embarrassment at nearly getting caught in the middle of  _ that _ conversation, she made her way over to the elder Jones to help bring in the bags he carried.

“Hey, Killian!” his brother said with a grin, nodding to the half-empty orange juice bottle in Killian’s hand..  “Finally doing what you’re told, eh?”

“Maybe I was just waiting for you to ask nicely,” Killian grumbled with a small smile, taking another sip.

Emma opened the bag and pulled out a couple of warm food containers that smelled of eggs and cheese and fresh bread.  Liam took out a package of fresh bandages, another case of juice, and a box with a sling pictured on the cover.  Grabbing one of the take-away containers in one hand, he sat on the bed, feet propped on the metal bar, coffee cup in his other hand. 

“Only juice for you, little brother,” Liam said with a grin.  “At least until you stay fever-free for a full day.  Or there's some leftover soup in the fridge, if you’re interested.”  Emma grinned over her bite of scrambled eggs as Killian tossed his empty juice bottle at his brother while muttering, “Younger,” under his breath, Liam laughing as he caught the plastic projectile easily.  It felt good, normal, to have no one mad at anyone else, no one walking out, no one moaning in pain and fever in the bed.

She could get used to field work, if this was what normal was like. 

“When do we get out of here?” Killian asked, reaching across the space to the bed carefully to snag a bit of his brothers croissant.

“Got a charter for tonight at 6,” Liam swallowed, batting Killian's hand away half-heartedly.  He picked up a full bottle of juice from the bed and passed it to Killian, who frowned but took it.  “It'll take us to Moscow. From there I figure we take it one step at a time, don't plan too far in case anyone's watching. There are a few routes we can take to Sydney, it's probably best to decide the next leg just before we depart.”

Killian nodded, taking a drink from the new bottle.  Emma watched him slip the stolen piece of croissant into his mouth just before swallowing, and from the grin he flashed her, he knew she saw as well.  “Good idea.  And when we get there, we set up at a hotel and go directly in after Gold before he moves again.”

“Not so fast, Killian,” Liam warned, setting his container aside - away from Killian's quick fingers.  “You're not going in.”

Anger flashed in Killian's eyes as he glared at his brother and sat forward slightly.  “Liam, you can't be serious, after all-”

Liam shook his head.  “Can't risk it.  You're still too weak. Flying time, at most, is only 36 hours, you're barely healed.  But-”  He held up his hand, cutting off Killian's arguments before he could voice them.  “We need you running surveillance and communication.  I'll go in with Emma, get her to the servers to install the virus, and arrest Gold. We still need you, we need you to keep the whole thing together, just not on the boat, yeah?”

Killian glowered, clearly unhappy with the idea of being left out of the action, but he seemed to recognise the better plan for what it was - a way to keep him on board despite his injury, a compromise, a peace offering.  He glanced over at her, but she just shrugged.  Liam had told her earlier what he'd planned, and it seemed fair enough to her.  Killian turned back to his brother and nodded curtly.  “Fine. But just… be careful.”

“I'm always careful,” Liam grinned, reaching for his food again.  “It's you who always seems to end up in trouble.”

Killian grinned, shrugging his right shoulder, and this time Emma couldn't hold back the laugh as he showed her the rest of his brother's croissant tucked neatly into his palm. 

_ Yeah, it’ll be okay _ , she thought, more calm than she'd been since before all this started. She finished eating breakfast, pulled out her computer, and got back to her code, while Liam filled Killian in on the rest of the plan.

* * *

The rest of the day passed mostly uneventfully, for a change.  Emma worked on as much of the code as she could without feeling like the letters and numbers were being imprinted directly onto her brain, and she packed up her stuff for the long trip to Australia during breaks from the computer.  Killian went back to sleep, still too tired to stay awake for long stretches at a time, but at least this time he wasn’t groaning in pain as he slept.  Liam had work to do back in London, connecting remotely to his desk at MI6 via computer while sitting on the porch with the door closed.  Emma knew she didn’t have adequate British security clearance, aside from the temporary, mission-specific access she’d been given for their current case, but she couldn’t help feeling a little shut out by his secrecy.

When Killian woke later in the afternoon, everything was nearly ready to go.  Liam helped him into the shower, the sounds of splashing and cursing from the pair of them the only noises she could hear through the thin door.  Liam stomped out of the bathroom after the shouting only escalated, his shirt drenched in water.  “Childish prat,” he muttered as he crossed the room to the sofa in the corner, angrily pulling out a dry shirt from his duffel bag.  Killian emerged a few minutes later dressed in everything but a shirt, a clean bandage taped to his chest, his dark hair dripping water down his neck, a matching scowl on his face.  Glaring at his brother’s back, he lowered himself slowly to sit on the edge of the bed.

_ Guess  _ totally  _ uneventful was too much to ask, _ she thought, hiding her grin behind her laptop screen.

She watched as Killian grabbed his own shirt, struggling to push his left arm through the sleeve, when she finally gave up on the code that wasn’t cooperating anyway and got up.

“Don’t be an idiot, Killian,” she said, her hand out to take the shirt from him. “Let someone help you for a change.”  He looked up, annoyance and frustration evident in his eyes, but he passed her the shirt without a word.  Careful not to jostle his arm too much, she slipped the sleeve over his hand, wiggling it up his arm gently.  He hissed when she got closer to his shoulder, but clenched his jaw in silence, leaning obediently to let her pull the neck over his head, his right arm finding the sleeve on his own.

“Can you…” he sighed, pointing to the sling on the other bed.  “Can you help me with that, too?”

She grabbed the box and pulled out the mess of black fabric and straps.  With his direction - clearly he’d worn one before - they managed to figure out how to get his arm into the sling, a comfortable position for the strap at his neck, and the swathe wrapped tightly enough around his chest to keep his arm from moving without crushing the rest of his ribs.

“Better?” she asked once he was settled.  

He nodded, muttering a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah, terrible patient, I know,” Emma grinned as she stood.

But Killian’s hand grabbed hers, holding her from getting too far away.  She turned, looked down at him where he sat, his eyes hesitantly meeting hers.  “I mean it,” he said quietly.  “Thank you.  For… for giving me a chance, for not leaving me behind like I probably deserved.”

Emma shrugged, squeezing his hand.  “Just prove to me that I made the right choice,” she said.

He nodded.  “I don’t intend to let you down,” he promised, an intensity in his eyes that almost made her look away.  Almost.  He squeezed her fingers once and then released his grip with a small smile.

She shook her head, her smile growing wider.  “Good.”

Finally, it was time.  Emma helped Liam pack up the car, get Killian bundled inside, and soon they were off toward the small airport.  The plane was waiting for them on the runway, a small six-seater with chairs that reclined all the way down.  Killian grumbled about trading one bed for another, but he fell asleep as soon as they got in the air.  Emma tried to rest as well, managing to get in an hour or so of sleep, but the flight was too short to really get comfortable.

Once in Moscow, Liam went to arrange the next leg - a ten-hour hop to Bangkok that would leave in two hours - and the three ate supper in the uncomfortable airport chairs, going over the schematics for Gold’s yacht while they ate.  Liam pointed out three possible ways onto the boat, Killian found another two, and they decided on a couple of roughly-sketched plans to board the ship and get to the computers.  Emma would have to get the virus installed before they could arrest Gold; they had no idea if he had a way to quickly wipe his servers while hiding his programs and codes in a different location.  The system he was using needed to be completely erased so no one else could find and use it the way he was, and the only way to make sure was to attack it first and then grab Gold.

On the next flight, they all tried to get some rest.  Emma wasn’t sure if she really slept at all, but about halfway through, she heard a groan from Killian.  Looking up, she saw him gripping his left forearm tightly, massaging his fingers into the muscles as he gently flexed his arm at the elbow.

She must have made a noise because he looked straight at her, too quickly to fully mask the pinched expression of pain on his face.  But that was soon wiped away as his features relaxed into a smile.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he said quietly.

She shrugged.  “Can’t sleep.”

Killian eyed her careful.  “Worried about the rest of the mission?”

Emma nodded.

“I won’t lie to you,” he said, his voice low, a flicker of fear crossing his face momentarily.  “Gold is not to be underestimated, and any number of things can go wrong.  But I believe you can do this.”

“Why?” she asked, careful to keep her voice low.  “Why do you keep thinking I can do all of this?  The code isn’t working, I’m building one from scratch with only a few days to do it.  What if I do it wrong?  What if I get us caught on his boat?  What if-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Killian held up his good hand, stopping her.  She fell silent, but the questions wouldn’t leave her alone.  After everything that  _ already _ went wrong - his injury, the original virus issues, her new virus still malfunctioning despite almost constant tweaking, she was really not so sure he had any right believing in her.  And, after hearing how the  _ last  _ Jones brothers mission went so completely downhill, she would be lying if she said she wasn’t totally and utterly terrified.

“Emma,” he murmured, “you are the best with computers that I’ve ever seen, ever.  You’re like a pirate - hacking into systems like you know your way around, like  _ you  _ command  _ them _ , and it’s bloody brilliant watching you work.”

She blushed.  “Yeah, but-”

“But nothing.  You got us past the bank security, got Gold’s financials, hacked into his encrypted files, and didn’t even break a sweat doing it.  I’ve  _ seen _ you in your element, and you can do this.  Plus,” his expression softened further, “you’re motivated to succeed.  Revenge is a very powerful force, trust me on this, and it’ll work for you, especially when you’re so incredibly calm about it.”

He shifted slightly in his chair, biting back a grunt.  “Besides,” he grinned, “you’ll have Liam out there to protect you.  He’ll take good care of you, I know it.”

“I’m just…”  She trailed off, unsure how to continue.

Killian waited, watching her, his gaze even, encouraging.  “What is it, Emma?”

She took a steadying breath, forcing herself to meet his eyes, though all she wanted was to run back to the safety of her computer screen, or into the tiny airplane bathroom with the water running, or, better yet, back home to her office in Langley, where the Jones brothers, Gold, and all this mess was just a bad dream.  

Her voice was quiet when she finally answered him.

“What I wanted to tell you earlier, before your brother came back to the hotel?  I’m worried this mission is being sabotaged, and I think Liam’s involved somehow.”

Killian sat straight up, leaning forward in his seat, his expression hard and almost unreadable.  “Are you certain of that?” he asked quietly.

Emma shook her head, the words coming out fast as she tried to push them past Killian before she couldn’t bring herself to say them at all.  “No, not entirely.  But there’s something going on here, something doesn’t add up.  The code that Gold’s using, it’s identical to the one MI6 installed six or seven years back, which works by connecting immense numbers of data networks and mining through it to identify trouble regions throughout the globe.  MI6 uses it to know where to send in agents, Gold is using it to figure out where your department is sending them, but it works the same way for both.  There are thousands of emails, phone calls, and news reports to sort through every  _ hour _ .  MI6 built the network from the ground up, and it takes a massive amount of computing power to run, but where did Gold get his network?  The only thing I can figure is that he’s somehow managed to piggy-back onto MI6’s original system without anyone ever noticing, while running his program on his own servers.  But there are only a few people who have access to the program files, and Liam’s one of them.

“And the original virus, the one full of holes that didn’t even work?  That was one that  _ Liam  _ brought back while we were at the bank.  He’s been constantly working on the porch at the hotel, or out getting supplies, always alone.  And he hasn’t been telling me the whole story on  _ anything _ , though maybe that’s just a Jones thing, I don’t know.”  She looked down at her hands, fingers twined tightly together.  “I just… I don’t know what to think, I’m sorry.”

Killian was quiet for a few minutes, and at first she didn’t want to look up at him, didn’t want to see the anger or disappointment sure to be on his face.  She could be wrong about Liam, she didn’t really know the two of them nearly as well as she thought she had at the start of all this, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something much bigger going on, and she needed Killian to know, even if he got upset with her for the accusation.

But when he didn’t say anything for a while, her curiosity got the better of her, and she slowly raised her eyes to see his.  His eyebrows were drawn close together, chewing nervously at his lower lip, his gaze focused somewhere near his lap.  When he finally met her eyes, there was no trace of any of the emotions she expected.

“I want to say that you’re wrong, that my brother would never betray me - us - like that,” he said, even quieter than before.  “I trust Liam with my life, he’s been there for me since I was a child, helped me through the absolute worst times in my life.”

Emma looked away, tears of frustration beginning to fill her eyes.

“But,” Killian said, reaching out to touch her arm.  She turned back, blinking furiously.  “But I honestly don’t know, Emma.  I haven’t exactly been around much these last few days, and in a lot of ways I’m too close to this case - and my brother - to be objective enough to know for sure.  And I trust you, your judgement.  I just can’t condemn him without any solid proof, you understand?”

She nodded, grateful he at least understood that much.  “Yeah.”

“I’ll try to keep an eye on him, though,” he offered gently.  “If that makes you feel better.”

“Thank you.”  And it did make her feel better, in a way she wasn’t sure she could fully explain to him.  For the first time since Neal, she felt like she was a part of something, that someone, at least, trusted her at her word alone,  _ believed _ in her so completely.  She’d spent so long alone, haunted by the loneliness that whispered to her that she didn’t deserve anyone else, that she was meant to be on her own.  And to have Killian agree with her - even just opening himself up to the possibility that she was right - was a powerful thing.

And now that Killian knew what was on her mind, that he knew what she worried about, a part of that burden felt lifted from her shoulders, though nothing had really changed.  The mission was still not guaranteed to be a success, her code could still fall apart at anytime, Gold could still get away on a moment’s notice.  But she felt relieved, relaxed, and the full weight of the exhaustion that had been building crashed over her all at once.

“Better try to get some sleep,” Emma yawned widely, covering her mouth with her hand.   “We should be in Thailand in about four hours.”

Killian nodded sympathetically.  “And Sydney another twelve to fourteen after that, depending on the route we choose.  Rest, Emma.  You deserve it.”

She smiled gratefully, rolled over in her reclined chair, and was asleep almost instantly.

* * *

By the time they landed in Sydney either fourteen hours or two days later - the time changes messed with her more than the actual flight time - they were all exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep for another couple of days, though it was only 11 o’clock in the morning local time.  They checked into a hotel on the north side of the Sydney Harbour, far enough away from the marina, but close enough so Emma could marvel at the view of the Sydney Opera House and the Harbour Bridge.  She still couldn’t wrap her head around the fact that she was actually traveling the world, out in the field, in places she’d only dreamed about going but never imagined she’d ever end up.

Liam offered to head out and pick up some food, and Emma didn’t say a word, just glanced quickly at Killian as the older Jones stepped out.  True to his word, Killian had stayed close to his older brother throughout their travels, both to find out what he was working on so intently (“Work stuff, seriously boring, please don’t make me read all of it again, Emma,” he’d begged at one point) and to take away his opportunity to make any surreptitious phone calls.  Liam hadn’t done anything suspicious through the trip, and Emma wondered if maybe she’d imagined the whole thing, maybe the stress had gotten to her more than she realised.  She apologised to Killian more than once, but he’d shrugged it off.

“Better safe than sorry,” he said, and he really meant it.

While Emma had managed to finish her version of the virus on the plane, she started practicing slipping the code into the copy of Gold’s program she had, timing herself to see how long it actually took.  Killian prepared their communication equipment, mostly one-handed.  His left hand was much stronger, but he still couldn’t move the arm without enough pain to make him not want to try again, and Liam wasn’t letting him out of their earlier arrangement for Killian to run surveillance.

After two hours and no sign of Liam, she looked across the room at Killian, wondering if he realised just how long his brother had been gone.  From the worried look he gave her, he definitely did.

“Should I call him?” he asked quietly.  Emma understood his hesitation.  Without knowing either way, Killian didn’t have to commit to the possibility that his brother was involved in something shady.  But once he made the call, he’d know for sure, and he was afraid.

“You want me to call?” she offered.

Killian thought for a moment, then shook his head.  “I’ll do it, better it comes from me, I think.”

He dialed and stood up, pacing quickly as it rang.  Emma chewed her lip, watching, waiting, trying to ignore the fluttering nerves in her belly.  She heard a click through the phone and Killian’s face perked up as a voice answered, only to see his expression change immediately to one of absolute horror as he all but  _ threw  _ the phone onto the bed, his hand clamped tightly over his mouth, eyes wide in fear as he jumped back.

He must have hit the speaker button by mistake because she could easily hear a voice that was definitely  _ not _ Liam’s, a Scottish lilt accenting the words from the other end, and from Killian’s reaction she knew  _ exactly _ who it was.

“I’m sorry, your brother is unable to come to the phone right now,” ex-MI6 Agent Gold said from the phone.  “He’s a bit…  _ tied up _ at the moment.  But perhaps now would be a good time to talk,  _ Killian _ .”

And then he laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews? Comments? Places you wish you could visit?


	8. Behind the Eight Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! Hope that cliffhanger wasn't too rough on you! Just in case, I made sure this one gave you some extra hints at our heroes pasts. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews? Comments? Favourite subject in school?

_“But perhaps now would be a good time to talk, Killian.”_

Killian couldn’t breathe, his chest tight, suffocating, as the voice, _that_ voice, came through the phone.   _No, no no no_ , his mind played on a loop, the only sound in his ears.   _No_ …

He wasn’t aware that he’d stepped backward away from the phone, that his back hit the wall, that he was sliding, slipping, falling, everything coming apart, everything just noise.  He vaguely felt the carpeted floor under him, he must have sat, his knees must have buckled when he hit the wall, but he had no memory of it, nothing at all.

Emma’s hand was on his shoulder, a question in her eyes, her gentle touch pulling him up from whatever depths he’d fallen into, holding on, grounding him.

But Gold’s voice still sounded through the phone, words he couldn’t understand, couldn’t focus on, not with Liam gon-

 _No._  He shook his head.  Liam wasn’t gone, not yet.  There was still a chance they could get him back.  There had to be.  There always had been before, despite impossible odds.

“-proof that you’re on your way out of the country,” Gold was saying from somewhere on the bedspread, “and I’ll send your brother back to London, completely unharmed.  Well, not more than he may be already.  Is that understood, Mr. Jones?”

Killian cleared his throat, not making a move to rise from his position on the floor, and he was more than grateful that Emma stayed beside him.  “What-” he coughed.  “What time frame do we have to make that decision?”  He never thought he’d be negotiating with the other man, not after everything that happened between them.  He didn’t want to think about it, not with Liam captured.   _Couldn’t_ think about it, _especially_ with Liam captured.

“Let me know your decision by four o’clock,” Gold said calmly, Scottish accent familiar and yet impossibly colder than the last time they’d spoken, all those years ago.  “If you choose to accept my offer, you’ll take your little spy friend and fly to Darwin immediately.  From there, go anywhere else in the world, I don’t care where.  I want you off this continent by 8pm.  If you don’t take my deal, then Liam will not be joining you, in England or anywhere else.”

“How do I know you still have him?” Killian asked carefully, concealing the tremor in his voice as best he could.  “How do I know he’s okay?”

A thumping sounded on the line as the phone was passed along.  

“Killian?” came a hesitant voice, a voice he knew anywhere, a voice that had reassured him in the dark when he was a child, that had called to check on him when he was home alone as a teenager, that had stayed with him for weeks while he recuperated after Kabul.

Liam.  

He was there, he was- _oh, God_.  Tears filled Killian’s eyes, but he pushed them away.   _Not now_.  He couldn’t fall apart now, not when Liam needed _him,_ for a change.

“Liam?” he whispered, finally drawing up off the floor awkwardly, reaching his good hand out to grip the phone.  “Brother, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Killian.  I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you have to-”  His voice cut off with a muffled grunt of pain, which Killian swore he could feel shooting through his own chest.

“That’s enough,” came Gold’s voice once more.  “I have him, and you have your choice.  You let me know that you’ve accepted my deal by 4, get proof you’re in Darwin and about to head out of Australia before eight, and he’s all yours.  You know how to reach me.”

With that, the line clicked silent.

Killian dropped the phone onto the bed, sank back against the wall, trembling fingers running across his face, the scruff at his jaw, then back up through his hair.  He jumped when Emma touched his arm, the sudden motion sending shocks of pain through his forgotten injury.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly, her eyes wide with worry.

He took a shaky breath, then another, but the trembling wouldn’t stop.  He struggled to rein in everything, his fingers tugging at his hair, desperately trying to _think_.  Liam captured, Gold knew where he was, that Emma was with him, that he’d do anything to save his brother, anything to avoid another-

 _Can’t think that way_ , he scolded himself.   _Get it together!_

But still his fingers shook violently, and a twisting, gutting sensation tightened deep in his belly, threatening to make him sick.  He squeezed his eyes shut, focused on evening out his breathing, trying to think of anything but the decision at hand.

In the end, it was Emma who got him to calm down, her hands rubbing soothing circles on his right shoulder, up and down his arm as he sat there against the wall.  The gentle, repetitive motions took his mind off the enormity of the situation, and he could feel his heart rate slowing the longer she sat next to him.

With a sigh, he rested his head back against the wall, tremors finally calming to a quiet thrum, a slower rush of adrenaline he could feel pulsing through his limbs just under his skin, but the shaking stopped.  He opened his eyes, daring to meet hers, hoping the fear wouldn’t be so pronounced in his glance.

Her eyebrows were pinched with worry, but most of it was worry for _him,_ worry about how _he_ was doing, and he very nearly lost his tenuous control over his emotions again.

“Better?” she asked, her voice soft.

Killian wanted to say yes, he wanted to let her know it would be okay, that they could figure something out.  But Gold… and Liam… he just didn’t know.  And while there were some things she didn’t need to know about him, this much she did.

“No,” he whispered honestly, shaking his head slightly.  “Not really.”

She nodded slowly, one hand still rubbing his shoulder, the other hand sliding down his arm to slip into his, her fingers squeezing tightly against his palm as she sat cross-legged beside him.

“This is why,” he said hoarsely, “this is why we haven’t worked together, this is exactly why it’s so dangerous for us both to be here.  I didn’t ask for this mission, I didn’t want it, I _knew_ something like this would-”  He broke off, a shuddered breath rippling through his chest, sending waves of pain through him that he only barely felt.  His hand tightened around Emma’s.

“I can’t do this,” he wheezed quietly, chest tight again, fear thick and heavy in his lungs.  “I can’t do this, Emma.  I can’t leave him with Gold, I can’t lose him.”

“I know,” she murmured softly, her fingers still moving, still touching, still soothing.  “We’ll figure something out, okay?”

It took a few more minutes for his breathing to get under control, a few more minutes for his heart to stop leaping into his throat with each beat, his hand tightly holding onto hers the entire time.  But eventually he stopped gasping for air, stopped wheezing desperately, everything just calmed.

Killian leaned back against the wall, exhausted.  He was too weak for this, too injured to handle something this big, and he knew it.  All he wanted was to crawl back into bed, sleep, run from the pain in his arm and his heart.  But he needed to be there now, he needed to figure out a plan.

He needed to save Liam.

“The way I see it,” Emma said slowly, quietly, “there are three possibilities.  Either Liam was legitimately grabbed by Gold, who knew we were coming from whoever is sabotaging this mission.  Or, he went to take down Gold on his own, without us.  Or,” she paused, and he knew what she was going to say before she said it.  “Or he was working with Gold the whole time, and he got in way over his head.”

She was right, he knew, no matter how much he hated the third option.  But she was missing one important piece, one thing he knew about Liam that she couldn’t possibly understand, the one thing that made the situation so much worse for him.

“The only way Liam would go after Gold alone, or even agree to work with him,” Killian mumbled, “would be to protect _me_.”

It was so unlikely, the thought of Liam working with the ex-agent, that he wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t find any humour in the situation, not anymore.  Knowing his brother was out there, in the hands of the man who’d so thoroughly ruined his life, was too much to handle on its own.  The guilt that Liam was only in that situation because of him threatened to undo him again.  If he hadn’t been so stubborn about going to the hospital, would Liam even be in this mess, would he have gone after Gold on his own?  If he had taken the painkillers, if he hadn’t gotten shot… 

He tried to slow the whirling thoughts in his head, to concentrate, to figure out what the hell was going on.

Gold knew about them, their operation, that much was clear.  He knew they were after him, knew they got as far as Sydney.  Whether that was Liam’s doing or not - and he prayed it was any other explanation but that - Killian couldn’t stop to worry about it.  The question was, what now?

Killian closed his eyes and let out a quiet sigh.  “If we take his deal and leave Australia - assuming Gold keeps his word - then Liam will join us in London and Gold will probably sail out to a new place and we won’t find him again, not without a new set of intel, new leads.  And in the meantime, he continues to kill any agent he wants using the program we couldn’t destroy.”

“But If we don’t take his deal,” he continued quietly,” we storm his boat - somehow, just the two of us against who knows how many men - we take back Liam, destroy the program, grab Gold, and end this, which is next to impossible.  Assuming he hasn’t already moved somewhere else, taking Liam with him, in which case my brother d-dies.”

Emma nodded, a pensive expression on her face.  They sat in silence for another minute, each lost in thought, planning, turning over the facts they knew to try to find some other angle.  Emma’s hand in his kept him centred, kept him from losing it altogether, and he didn’t know what he would do without her there.  He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his brother, his only family, if they didn’t walk away.  But if they took Gold’s deal, he’d be responsible for every agent killed afterward, every spy in danger in the field because of his failure to stop Gold.  

“Or,” Emma said slowly, her eyes narrowing, “there might be a third option.  What if we take Gold’s deal, agree to leave Australia, but we don’t _actually_ go anywhere?”

Killian shook his head.  “Can’t.  He’d know, he’d find out.  We’re supposed to send him proof that we’re in Darwin and on our way to somewhere else.  How can we do that if we’re still here in Sydney?”

A slow smile spread across her face.  “We fake it.”

This time, Killian’s eyes narrowed.  “You mean fake the proof?  I’m assuming he’ll want a time-stamped photo of us and our plane tickets out of the country.  He’d be able to tell if the photo was tampered with.”

Emma’s smile only grew wider.  “You brought along a computer expert on this assignment, didn’t you?  I’m pretty sure I can manage to come up with something.”

Killian gaped at her, his mouth open.  “Are you… are you sure?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, squeezing his fingers tightly.  “I can do it.”

She looked so confident, so sure of herself, that Killian allowed himself a brief glimmer of hope.  If she could fake it, if she could lead Gold to think they’d left, they’d have the upper hand in a surprise raid on his yacht.  The rest of the plan would still be pretty sketchy, they’d need to work out more of those details, but it would be a tremendous advantage.  If it worked.

And if not…  Well, he didn’t really want to think too hard about that, not when he was barely holding on as it was.

“Okay,” he nodded slowly.  “Okay, let’s do it.”

With a reassuring grin, she helped him up from the floor and outlined what they’d need to do.  He had to admit, it _did_ seem like a pretty good idea.  With her computer skills, she could manipulate a digital image of them to look like they were in the Darwin airport in five or six hours from now so that even a comparable expert would have a hard time spotting that it was a fake.  All they had to do then was make sure Gold didn’t set sail before they could get aboard his yacht once nightfall came.

That settled, they hammered out the details of the plan to get aboard the boat.  Unsure as to whether Liam had been compromised - whether before or after his capture - they decided to use a new strategy, one they hadn’t discussed before at all.  Killian would have to go in despite his injury, still not quite strong enough to take on such a mission, his arm still out of commission, but they had no choice.  Emma couldn’t go in alone and he wasn’t letting her anywhere near Gold without backup.

It took a couple of hours to get everything arranged - the photo taken, expertly edited as her fingers flew across the keyboard faster than he could make out, and set to deliver automatically just after their first theoretical flight would land later that evening.  They packed up everything and checked out of the hotel, just in case had Gold sent someone to check on them.  A little creative hacking by Emma into the car rental agency and it looked as if they’d already returned the small Corolla to anyone who was keeping track.

Emma had no experience driving on the left side of the road, so Killian got behind the wheel as she directed them south across the Harbour Bridge toward the city’s west side.  Each bump on the road sent shivers of pain through his arm, despite the sling keeping it immobile against his chest, but he tried his best to ignore it, gritting his teeth as he gripped the steering wheel with his good hand.

They pulled into the parking lot of Wentworth Park, near the open cricket fields at the north end, not far from the edge of Blackwattle Bay.  They planned to camp out there until nightfall, Gold’s yacht berthed in the marina just across the small bay.  The boat itself was visible with binoculars, which they used to make sure it stayed put.

At 3pm, Killian called Gold, his hand shaking the entire time, and he told the man that they’d be boarding a Qantas flight to Darwin in a few minutes.  Gold laughed in his ear, the sound chilling through Killian’s entire body, and said he’d send Liam off once he had the proof they arrived.

Killian was still trembling when he got off the phone, but the yacht hadn’t moved.

“He believed you?  He thinks we’re really going?” Emma asked.

“Aye, he’d better,” Killian murmured quietly, sinking back wearily.  He dropped the phone into the centre console and leaned back in the seat, his eyes closed.

“Killian?” Emma asked quietly.  “Can I ask you something?”

He opened his eyes and looked across the car to her.  Her hands rested on her lap, fingers twisting together as she watched them move.

“Of course,” he said.  “Everything okay?”

“That’s…” she sighed, and met his eyes.  “That’s kind of what I wanted to ask you.”

 _No_ , he wanted to say.  Everything was _not_ okay.  Liam was held captive by the one man with the ability to make Killian’s life a living hell, who’d _already_ tried it years back - and had managed to succeed to a large degree.  They had no idea how much of the plan Liam had divulged to Gold, whether on his own or under… duress, and Killian couldn’t bring himself to think about how Liam was being treated at any given moment.  Emma had finished her version of the virus they were going to install and, while Killian trusted that it would be effective and quick at destroying Gold’s network, he really had no idea if it would work, or if they’d even get the chance to get it onto Gold’s computers at all.

No, everything was far from okay.

Emma continued.  “I’m just… your reaction earlier, finding out Liam was… you know.  You were pretty out of it for a while.  I know you two are close, and I know Gold isn’t a good guy by far.  But you just seemed… almost _too_ afraid, if that makes any sense.”

Killian took a shaky breath, and then another, focusing his attention too hard on the grainy rubber texture of the steering wheel.   _This is not the time to get into it_ , he thought panicking slightly.  But he’d promised her honesty - hell, she was going straight into the demon’s lair with him to rescue his idiot brother on just _faith_ that they could pull this thing off.  And now, to ask her to trust him just a little bit longer, he felt like a complete jerk.  But there was no other way, not now, not this close.

“I want to tell you everything, Emma,” Killian said finally, his voice so quiet that he wasn’t sure she could hear him, “I really do.  There’s a lot you don’t know about Gold, what he’s capable of, a lot that scares me more than you can ever imagine.  And… it’s not fair of me to keep secrets from you, especially now, I know that.”

He looked up, her expression curiously patient as she watched him.  

“But I can’t,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, despite all his efforts.  “I just… I _can’t_ tell you.  I’m terrified of what it does to me, I can’t handle what it would do to you, if you knew.  I’m sorry, I just…”  He dropped his head, blinking furiously as tears he didn’t want her to see filled his eyes.

“I can’t tell you any more, not right now,” Killian finished softly, the bumps and ridges of the wheel melding together as his vision blurred.  

He prepared for the worst, for her to get angry, rightfully mad at him, and walk out on the rest of the mission.  He prepared for her to be upset, disappointed that she couldn’t trust him to be as open as she wanted.  In either scenario, she was one hundred percent right, and he was the liar who locked his secrets in a safe beneath the wall he’d already mostly torn down for her.

He _wasn’t_ prepared for the touch of her hand on his, her fingers slipping effortlessly against his skin, or her quiet words.

“It’s okay, Killian,” Emma murmured softly.  “You don’t have to tell me _everything_ about yourself, you know.”  He blinked and looked up, shocked at the gentle smile on her face, her quiet acceptance of his secrets something he was _sure_ he didn’t deserve.

“You would tell me,” she added, “if what you know would affect the case, right?”

“Of course,” he nodded quickly.  It couldn’t affect the case, it _couldn’t_ , there was no way…  “If I thought you needed to know, I’d tell you in a heartbeat.”

“Good.”  She smiled, her hand tightening on his.  “Then don’t worry about it.  Now let’s get everything set up for tonight, okay?”

She leaned over, pulling her laptop and tablet onto her lap for a last-minute run through of all the technical aspects she’d be taking care of.  Killian just sat and watched her, too tired, too sore, too wrung out to try and do anything else just then.  This woman who had no field experience was managing to run the entire show as he crumbled under the pressure.  And after being certain he would never let another partner close enough after Milah, after spending _years_ pushing away anyone who got too close, she’d managed to find all his secrets, even the ones he couldn’t unlock just yet, and still she didn’t push him for more.

After years spent on his own, he didn’t even know what to make of that, of _her._

He knew Liam trusted him, to an extent.  His brother was too close, however; he knew Killian’s weaknesses just as well as his strengths.  It was important for Liam to know - as mission coordinator it was his _job_ to know what assignments Killian could handle and which he couldn’t.  Liam’s faith in him was more realistic, pragmatic, based on skills or failures he’d already demonstrated.

Emma, on the other hand, believed in him to know _himself_ , to be honest with her about what he could and couldn’t handle.  And Killian wasn’t used to that level of trust, not since… not since Milah.

And he knew only too well how badly _that_ ended, something he desperately couldn’t think about, especially now.

Without another word, Killian leaned his chair back and settled in to take a quick nap, hoping the rest would clear his head and refresh him enough for the most difficult part of the mission yet to come.

* * *

By the time night fell, Killian had managed to get a couple of hours of sleep - nowhere near enough, but every little bit helped.  They ate a bit of the take-away food they’d picked up earlier and went over all the details one more time.

Emma had the virus prepared on her flash drive, her tablet ready to control the installation remotely.  Killian split up the weapons they’d be carrying, made sure she had enough extra ammunition tucked in her pockets, just in case.  They’d have to move fast - disable the guards at the pier, make their way as quickly as possible to the server room three decks below, and install her code before finding Liam or Gold.  Despite Emma’s hesitation at killing anyone, there was no other way on board; all other back ways onto the yacht were methods they’d discussed with Liam and they couldn’t count on those plans to be a secret anymore.

Before they left for the marina, she checked if the photo she’d edited earlier had gone through.  It had, and a smug reply from Gold claimed that Liam would be on a flight out of Sydney the next morning, as promised.  She’d asked Killian why they didn’t just leave then, if Liam would be free soon, but he shook his head, ignoring the clawing tendrils of fear he hadn’t quite managed to quell entirely.

“He’ll leave,” he said simply.  “Gold will pick up and leave, and he won’t stop killing, not unless we stop him.”  She nodded, and finished strapping into her bulletproof vest.  

His own vest was uncomfortable - didn’t quite fit right over his sling, and it pulled too heavily on his wounded shoulder.  In the end he shrugged it off entirely.  “It’s more important that I can move if needed,” he explained, noting her worried glance.  “What that, I’m probably at even more of a disadvantage.”

Fully prepared, or as ready as they’d ever be, Killian drove them across the nearby Anzac Bridge toward the marina, Gold’s yacht berthed at the slot furthest west.  He parked the car across the street where it wouldn’t be noticed and turned off the car, taking slow breaths as deeply as he could handle to calm himself down.

The twisting in his gut had started up again with a vengeance, and his fingers shook slightly as he checked and re-checked his holstered weapon, the spare magazines in his pocket, the knife slipped into the sheath at the back of his boot.  And, just as before, Emma noticed, reached out and took his hand in hers, her palm warm and reassuring.  He let out a low breath and forced a shaky smile.

“You ready?” he asked quietly.

She grinned, squeezing his fingers.  “Always.”

They exited the car and made their way quickly and silently through the shadows toward the pier at the end.  Two guards stood at the edge of the short dock, just at the entrance to Gold’s boat.  Each was clearly carrying weapons, Killian could make out the distinct outlines of shoulder holsters under each of their jackets.  Hoping Emma was as good a shot as she’d claimed, they quietly raised their weapons, silencers screwed to the barrels, and he motioned the countdown.

They fired at the same time, two light popping sounds emerging from the guns, and both guards fell over fell to the ground, completely motionless.

“Nice shot,” Killian whispered, impressed.

Emma only shrugged, her bright green eyes sparkling even in the dark.  “Told you I can handle a weapon.”

Despite all his fear, all his worries, Killian couldn’t help but smile back.  Together, they rushed up to the yacht, quickly surveying the deck for other guards, and quietly rolled the dead men into the water, where they dropped with a barely noticeable splash.

Remembering the floor plan Emma had managed to pull up earlier, they padded carefully onto the yacht and slipped below deck.  Sticking to the darkened mechanical and service rooms, they descended the three levels until they found the tiny server room, guarded by only one man who collapsed with a single shot to the back of the head.

Standing guard at the doorway, Killian motioned for Emma to enter and get to work.  She found the correct terminal, the right USB port, and stuck her flash drive in, pulling out her tablet and tapping furiously to get the virus set up on the computer. He marvelled at her as she navigated the complex computer code, fighting off the barest hints of exhaustion that had started to creep in with the energy and adrenaline he was expending.  It was truly amazing how fast she could do what she did, how well she knew her way around even unfamiliar systems, and he felt just a smallest bit of confidence in their plan as she worked.

He was so engrossed in what she was doing that he failed to notice anything else, until the barrel of a gun - cold and distinctly metal - was pressed against the base of his neck.

“Drop your weapons, get your hands in the air, and don’t move,” said a low voice behind him.

Killian froze, ice clawing through his chest, his eyes wide as he locked onto Emma’s, her fingers motionless over the tablet screen.  She looked afraid, but her fear didn’t compare to the absolute _terror_ that raced through him.   _No!_ he thought wildly.   _No, no, no!_

“I’m sorry,” Killian whispered, as he let his gun slip from his fingers to land on the hard floor at his feet.  A dark boot sent his weapon skittering down the short hallway.

“You too,” the guard said, motioning to Emma.  “Put down the computer and raise your hands in the air.”

She put the tablet on the computer terminal and held her hands up.

A second guard muscled into the cramped room, ran his hands briefly up and down Emma’s sides.  He plucked out her sidearm and the three spare magazine she carried, pocketing them all while grabbing her abandoned tablet.  Killian’s guard did the same to him, pulling out his ammo and the knife sheath as well.

“Let’s go,” muttered the guard behind him.  A thick hand pushed at the back of his wounded shoulder, and Killian saw stars.  He groaned softly, hunched over around the fresh pain in his arm, but he managed to follow the man’s directions and climb back up to the main deck, Emma behind him the whole way.

Once on deck, his guard shoved him roughly across the wooden floor to the far bulkhead.  Killian grunted, his right arm grabbing at the sling, but he somehow managed to stay on his feet. A light flickered on from the platform above them, bathing the main deck in bright light.  Emma was facing him on the other side of the ship, clearly scared.

 _What now?_ she mouthed silently, meeting his eyes.

He shook his head slightly, desperately trying to mask his own fear.  She would definitely find out now, he knew.  Everything he’d tried to keep from her, everything he’d tried to keep from _himself_ , surely now it would all come rushing out, and he knew he couldn’t handle reliving the memories again, reliving all that pain and terror.

Footsteps echoed softly off the gleaming wooden deck, but Killian didn’t break eye contact with Emma as Gold stepped out of the darkened stateroom.

“Well, well well,” said the voice from his nightmares.  “It seems you’re not _quite_ where you said you’d be.”

Killian swallowed hard, refusing to look at the man.  “Where’s my brother?” he rasped hoarsely.

“Liam?” Gold said with a laugh, and Killian wanted nothing more than to pounce on him, despite the two men still guarding himself and Emma.  He didn’t move.  “We’ll get to him in a moment,” continued the Scot.  “Why don’t you start by explaining what you’re doing on my boat, when you’re supposed to be half a continent away by now?”

“Where’s my brother?” Killian repeated, his voice oddly calm, his eyes still locked on Emma’s.

“Look at me, Jones,” Gold demanded.  “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Killian didn’t turn his head.  “Where’s my brother?”

“Always the stubborn one, weren’t you,” the ex-MI6 agent said, a smile in his voice, though Killian was sure it wasn’t one indicating any sort of amusement.  But the clear sound of a weapon being cocked sent a shiver up his spine.

“Look at me,” Gold intoned flatly, “or I kill your partner.  Again.”

At the last word, Killian flinched.  He could see the question forming in Emma’s eyes, but he couldn’t answer her right now, not when he needed to do anything he could to protect her, however temporarily.  He closed his eyes for a moment, ignoring everything around him, and took a slow breath.  Opening them again, he finally turned to face Gold, fighting to keep his face expressionless.

Gold smiled, the same smile he wore while supervising all the tortures in Kabul, the same smile he wore while questioning Liam for days in the stifling Afghanistan desert, the same smile he wore as he ripped out Milah’s heart not three feet from where Killian hung in chains, unable to do anything but watch.

“What have you done with my brother?” Killian managed to bite out, forcing himself to look directly into the monster’s eyes.

“Nothing,” replied Gold, handing the gun back to the guard at Emma’s side, his cane twirling slightly in his hand.  “Here, I’ll show you.”

He turned toward the darkened glass windows of the stateroom with a wave, motioning to someone in the room.  Killian braced himself for how his brother would look, what state he would be in after spending the day in Gold’s clutch-

Liam stepped through the door on his own, no guards, no restraints, no signs of trauma, completely fine.  A pinkish blush was spread across his face, his eyes not quite meeting Killian’s, his head bowed in what looked like… shame?

“I’ve done nothing to him,” grinned Gold, “because your brother came here to me.”

For a second, Killian was sure the boat started taking on water, the deck listing precariously under his feet.  For a second, he was sure the world had suddenly been knocked off its axis.  There was no way the universe could behave the same with the way his brother was standing there, definitely _not_ kidnapped, looking more embarrassed than as the prisoner Killian thought he was.

“Killian,” Liam started quietly.  “I can explain…”

The world spun drunkenly around Killian’s head as he crashed heavily to his knees on the polished wooden deck.  He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, thoughts and memories tugging him in all different directions.

Until suddenly, it stopped, and Killian understood everything.


	9. Ninth Circle of Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nonstop action in this one, hopefully to make up for that last cliffhanger!
> 
> Note: This fic is rated M for violence, and there will be some here. Nothing too extremely graphic, but if you don't stomach it, please be warned.
> 
> Chapter title inspired by Natasha_Rhiannon (thanks for the idea!!!)

Emma had no idea what was going on.

One minute, she was furiously setting up the virus to wipe the program, the next she was being roughly pushed up metal service ladders to the main deck of Gold’s yacht.  She was scared, that was for sure, especially when Gold himself stepped out to greet them.  Everything Killian had warned her about, everything she’d learned about the ex-agent over the last week, didn’t help calm her nerves at all.  And the way Killian was looking at her as he pointedly avoided the other man’s eyes just flat out terrified her.

And then Gold held the gun to her head and threatened to kill her.  She swallowed, nerves twisting, wrenching in her gut, certain that Killian wouldn’t let him pull the trigger, but she couldn’t control her body’s reaction to being in danger.  She could only watch, frozen in fear, as Killian looked at her, flinching at Gold’s words.  He was just as scared as she was, if not more.  But there was something else, a different look in his eyes, as he resolved himself to give in to the other man’s demands.

Almost… an apology?

But when Liam emerged from the stateroom, unharmed, unguarded, it didn’t matter anymore.  She saw how Killian swayed on his feet, eventually falling heavily to his knees, shock written across his face.  Anger coursed through her as well - she didn’t want to be right, she didn’t want to think that Liam could betray his brother like that, betray her, the entire mission, and she’d spent the last day hoping she had been wrong in her original assessment.  

But Killian’s reaction had been so intense, and her fear surged to match her rage.

Emma wanted to do something, _anything_ , but she didn’t know how to handle the situation - hell, she barely knew how to handle _any_ field situation, putting her on this mission as her first international assignment was such a joke.  So she waited, watched, listened, hoping to learn something, find an opening, anything she could use to gain the upper hand.  They had her tablet, though by now the virus should have started its initial deconstruction of Gold’s program.  They’d also taken the silenced pistol Killian had given her in the car and all the extra ammunition as well.  She had nothing, and even if she wanted to fight the men beside herself and Killian, the three guards on the deck were easily much bigger than her, and armed.  Even with all the self-defense courses she’d taken over the years, she didn’t stand a chance on her own, and Killian wasn’t in any state to get dragged into a brawl.

She didn’t even know _what_ to think about Liam anymore.

“No,” Killian whispered brokenly where he knelt on the deck, his eyes glazed as he looked off somewhere in the distance, unfocused.  “It can’t be.”

“Killian,” Liam tried again, stepping forward.  But one of the two guards next to Killian grunted and moved beside Gold, and Liam didn’t come any closer.

“How could you?” Killian muttered, still lost somewhere else.  “How could you work with _him_?”  He bit out the last word, finally turning his head to face his brother, but not before Emma saw the anger building steadily across his features.

“I had no choice, brothe-”

“Don’t lie to me!” Killian snarled, still on his knees.  “Don’t stand there and tell me you had no choice, not after you went behind our backs to come _here_.  Don’t you dare.”  Emma could see his nostrils flaring as he spoke, his words harsh and biting, and Liam winced visibly as his brother berated him.

Gold nodded to the guard still beside Killian just then and the large man dragged him up by his good arm until he stood.  Killian gasped at the sudden movement, his face tightening in pain as he got his feet under him, but it was almost like he didn’t notice he was now upright.  He was clearly furious, breathing hard - _too_ hard, Emma thought.  How much was his broken ribs and how much was his anger, she couldn’t quite tell.

“After everything he did to us, Liam,,” Killian spat, “to _me_.  He tortured me in Kabul, for _days_.”

 _Oh, God_.

Emma realised it at once, her jaw dropping.  The same goosebumps she’d felt that first night, when Liam had quietly mentioned the ever-elusive Kabul mission to Killian, returned twice as strong, her head spinning as she tried to process everything.  

The tortures Killian had described, Milah killed, it was all _Gold_?!  

She had no idea how the _hell_ she’d missed that, but it explained _so_ much.  Killian’s fear of the mission, his reluctance to get involved in it originally, his “connection” with the man who used to be his partner, his absolute _terror_ when Liam had been “taken”, what he hadn’t wanted to tell her earlier in the car…

It all made so much sense now, Killian’s fury more than justified.  At least Liam had the decency to look ashamed of himself.  Gold, on the other hand, was smirking quietly at the Jones boys’ exchange, and Emma wanted nothing more than to punch the smile off his face, for everything he’d done to Graham, to Milah, to all the other agents, but especially to Killian, who looked as if he was barely holding it together anymore.

“He hurt me,“ Killian growled at his brother.  “He _laughed_ while I screamed, and you watched him do it, Liam!  You _know_ what he’s capable of!  And you still chose _him_!?”

“I didn’t have a choice!”

“ _HE KILLED MILAH!”_  Killian shouted, the cords of his neck standing out with the strain.

“Don’t you think I _know_ that?” his brother yelled back, face red with anger.  “I was _right_ there the whole time!  I watched him kill her, just like you did!  But a minute later, _you_ were unconscious and I wasn’t.  You didn’t see how he took the knife from her body and held it over _your_ heart, how he was going to kill _you_!  Only _I_ had that distinct honour!  I couldn’t let him kill you, I couldn’t just sit there and watch it happen!”

Killian fell silent, his eyes calculating, flashing darkly at Liam.  Despite her anger and disappointment, Emma felt her heart twisting in sympathy for the older brother, forced to watch someone he loved being hurt so badly, threatened like that.

“You gave him the access codes,” Killian said quietly, his voice hard, “didn’t you.”

Liam let out a slow breath, his fist clenching at his side.  “Killian, I-”

“ _DIDN’T YOU?!_ ”

“Yes!” Liam cried.  “Yes I did!  To save your life, I gave him what he wanted!”

Killian squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing stuttered and far too hard for it to be good for him, not after all the trauma he’d so recently suffered.  Emma wanted to do something, anything to help him, but the guard at her side was watching too closely.  She only prayed the virus was doing what it was supposed to, at least _some_ good would come of the mission.

“I begged you not to tell him,” Killian said, his voice low and cracking.  “It was the reason I held on through all of that, the _only_ reason, and yet you gave it all to him.  To save my life so I could, what?  Be your pet agent on a leash, while you _lied_ to me for five years?  I know that you didn’t want me on this mission.  Hell, I didn’t even want to _be_ on this mission, but I should have figured it out then, why you wanted to keep me away from all this, and don’t you _dare_ say it was to protect me, because we both know that’s not true anymore.”

“I… I couldn't let him kill you, Killian,”  Liam begged quietly.  “I didn’t have a choice.”

“You _always_ had a choice,” Killian growled back.  “You chose to let all those other agents die, instead of me.  Every single one of them is dead, because of you, what you chose.  What did he promise you, Liam?  Besides my life.  What else did he give you?”

“He- he told me he’d leave you alone,” Liam said, so softly Emma almost couldn’t hear him, “he wouldn’t chase after you.  As long as I made sure you and everyone else never found out he was using our system.  And… he arranged our extraction to the British base.”

Killian said nothing, just closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face that Emma was certain had nothing to do with his wounded shoulder.

The guard at Emma’s side stepped forward then, handing her tablet to Gold.  He frowned at the screen, tapping it uselessly.  “As much as I’d hate to interrupt this little family reunion-”

“Go to hell,” spat Killian, snarling at the ex-agent.

Emma wasn’t prepared for the speed of the blow, and neither was Killian.  The guard’s fist _slammed_ into Killian’s midsection, hard.  Killian collapsed to his knees, hunched over and gasping for breath, his eyes clenched shut as he wheezed, and Emma swore she felt the punch in her own stomach, watching him curl around himself.

“As I was saying,” Gold continued as if nothing happened, “I’m going to need you to shut down this virus.”  He handed the tablet to Liam, who squinted at the lines of code scrolling across it.

For a moment, Emma was worried, really worried.  If Liam stopped the virus, if he found a way to restore Gold’s program, then everything was for nothing, everything was a wast-

But Liam frowned, too, glancing worriedly at Gold.  “I- I can’t stop it.  This isn’t the same code I gave her.  I don’t know how to use this one.”

Her eyes widened.  The code.  She’d completely forgotten.  She’d switched the codes and never told Liam about it.  Only Killian knew that she wasn’t using his virus, the virus that would never have worked anyway.

A harsh chuckle broke through just then.  “You’re bloody brilliant, Swan,” Killian laughed, flashing her a dark smile before turning to his brother.  “She didn’t trust you, Liam.  Swapped out your code for one of her own.  You can't stop it, only she knows the way around it.”

Gold’s face hardened, his lips pressed together firmly.  He grabbed the tablet from Liam and marched across the deck to where she stood, his cane thumping against the wooden floor with each step.

“Stop the virus, Agent Swan,” he demanded, shoving the computer at her.

Emma swallowed, her throat suddenly dry as she shook her head.  “No,” she said hoarsely.  “I’m not doing it.”

Killian laughed again from the floor across from her, his good arm wrapped across his stomach.  “Good for you, Swan.  Don’t do it.”

Gold handed the tablet to the guard standing silently beside her and gave her a wide smile.  It unsettled her, his eyes full of fury despite the gesture.

“Have it your way.”

He motioned to the other guard, the one beside Killian, and terror Emma had never known settled firmly in her chest.

_No, he wouldn’t-_

She didn’t have time to finish her thought.  The guard lifted his foot and kicked straight into Killian’s wounded shoulder, pinning him against the side of the yacht.  Killian _screamed_ , clawing at the booted leg holding him in place with his hand, the guard’s foot pushing against the bullet wound and broken ribs at the same time, but he couldn’t move it off of him.

“No!” she cried out, stepping forward, but her guard held onto her, his grip so tight around her arm.  She could do nothing but watch, tears filling her eyes as Killian’s cries softened into loud gasps, his face twisted in agony as his feet scrabbled uselessly against the floorboards.

“You swore to me!” Liam shouted as he took two steps toward his brother, fury across his features.  The third guard stopped him, grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, the guard’s forearm wrapped around Liam’s neck, holding him back.  “You swore you wouldn’t hurt him,” Liam choked out.  “You swore you’d leave him alone!”

Gold only shrugged and grinned.  “The game changed,” he said.  He focused on Emma, his eyes dark.  “Stop the code, Agent Swan, and I’ll stop hurting Killian, you have my word.”

Emma’s gaze jumped to Killian.  “Don’t do it,” he managed to grunt out.  “Don’t tel-aah!”

A pang shot through her as the guard pushed his foot harder into Killian’s chest, cutting off his words with a sharp cry of pain.  She was breathing too fast, decisions swirling too quickly through her head, and she needed everything to slow down, to just _stop_.  Killian’s agonised groans made her want to do anything Gold wanted, _anything_ to make it stop, but she couldn’t do it, not knowing what Gold would do with the restored program, not after witnessing the exact same fight between the brothers.

Killian had thought himself weak for cracking under the torture in Kabul all those years ago, but she understood now, she knew _exactly_ what Liam had gone through.  Having to watch his brother in pain for so long when he had the power to stop it, to make it end.   _Liam_ was the one who’d broken in Kabul all those years ago, not Killian.

And now it was happening all over again, only she had to make the same choice Liam had been faced with.  To do the right thing, the hard thing, what Killian wanted her to do despite the pain it caused him, or the easy thing, to give in and let the blame for any agents’ deaths fall squarely on her shoulders.  Not to mention how furious Killian would be if everything he had gone through - both in Kabul and throughout this mission - was for nothing.

“I’m not doing it,” she whispered, her eyes locked on Killian’s face.

Killian managed a lopsided grin, despite the pain clearly written on his face.  “Good,” he rasped.

In the periphery of her vision, she saw Gold look quickly between the two of them.

“Well, isn’t this _familiar,_ ” he sneered, walking slowly across the deck to where Killian was still pinned at the short wall.  “What do you think your agent friend is going to do when we _really_ get going, Jones?  Choose to stay stubborn, listen to you scream?  Or will she choose to save you?”

“She’s not… going to do it,” Killian ground out slowly, fixing Emma with a hard stare before turning to look at Gold.  “She doesn’t… care about… me…”  He broke off with a groan.

 _Of course I ca-_ Emma almost said out loud, and she was momentarily shocked at her reaction, though she knew she really shouldn’t have been surprised at all.  During the week she’d known him, she’d let Killian into her life deeper than she’d allowed anyone, ever - her scars as visible to him as his were to her.  And he definitely didn’t have much experience opening up to others, that much was abundantly clear from the minute she met him, yet he’d shared his fears, his tragedy, just… _himself,_ with her, only with her.  Despite the seriousness of the case, despite the lies and secrets they both kept at the beginning, she knew him, she _understood_ him, and she realised she _did_ care about him, more than she’d cared about anyone in so long - more than Neal, more than Graham.  She felt safe with Killian, she knew that her broken pieces didn’t make him want to run, to leave her behind, like everyone else.  He trusted her, not just her skills but _her_ , and it gave her a strength she hadn’t known herself capable of.

Maybe she didn’t care about him _that_ way, the way Milah had, the way Liam must, not yet.  Maybe that could come later, and maybe she was curious to find out if it would.

Assuming they both survived this, of course.

Gold knelt down next to Killian, and Emma had to strain to make out his words.  “I think you’re lying,” he murmured, almost gently, into Killian’s ear.  “I think you care about her more than you want to admit, and she feels the same.  I remember how you looked at my Milah when you first met her, I remember how she looked at you.  True love, and all that nonsense.  You’re afraid to let Agent Swan care for you that way, and especially to feel the same way back.  But guess what?”  He leaned closer, still smiling.

Killian didn’t reply, gasping for air instead.

“It just makes it easier for me.”  Gold stood, and the guard removed his foot from Killian’s chest.  Emma breathed a sigh of relief when Killian gulped in lungfuls of air, his hand clutching at his chest.  He nearly fell over, but at least he could breathe.

Her relief was short lived.  Without any warning, Gold raised his cane and swung it around at Killian’s head, striking him across the face at his left temple, and this time, Killian _did_ fall over, with a short cry of pain as he hit the floor.

“ _NO!_ ” she shouted uselessly, her guard pulling her back roughly by the arm.  She could see Liam struggling against the large man holding him, fighting to gain some sort of leverage against him, but he couldn’t get free either.

Gold ignored her as he lifted the cane again, slamming it down on Killian’s wounded shoulder.  Killian cried out, blood trickling across his face from the gash at his eye, his body writhing to escape the strike.  Gold hit him, again, and again, the cane crashing onto Killian’s arm, his back, his chest.  Killian couldn’t draw enough air to scream anymore, he was wheezing, trying desperately to catch his breath, face twisted in absolute _agony_ with each strike of the cane, but Gold didn’t stop.

Emma could feel the twin tracks of tears carving down her face as she shouted, twisting wildly in her captor’s grasp.  She could hear Liam’s choked cries, his pleas to take his brother’s place, for Gold to just _leave him alone_ , but Gold didn’t listen, didn’t even acknowledge them, just continued raining blows down on Killian’s body.

Finally, Gold stepped back, breathing hard.  Killian was half-curled on his side on the floor, motionless aside from the shuddered breaths that shook his chest, his right hand limp on the deck.  He coughed, spitting out blood across the wood beneath him, gasping for breath, gasping in pain, but he didn’t move.

Liam sagged against his guard, looking completely defeated as he watched his brother.  Emma couldn’t take her eyes off Killian, each breath he took a small victory, a tiny bit of relief in her chest, but for how long?  How long could he hold on?  How long could _she_?

“Well, Agent Swan?” Gold smirked, wiping his hair back from his forehead with one hand as he turned to her.  “The code?”  

The guard beside her nudged the tablet closer, but she didn’t even look at it, her gaze focused only on Killian.  He coughed again weakly, blood dripping from his lips, and slowly opened his eyes and looked back at her.  The blue in his eyes was so bright, and so full of pain, but he smiled, the sides of his lips twitching upward.

“I’m… I’m not doing it,” she repeated, her voice catching just slightly.

Gold grinned, and lifted his foot to step forward - directly on top of Killian’s right hand.  Killian gasped, his palm under Gold’s heel, and when he looked at Emma, there was only fear in his eyes.

 _No!_ Emma thought in horror.

“Do it, or he’ll lose the hand,” Gold smirked, rocking forward.  She could see Killian’s fingers twitching from under Gold’s shoe, his eyes wide and panicked.  He winced in pain as Gold leaned forward again, putting more pressure on the trapped limb.

“Don’t,” he muttered quietly, and Gold picked his foot off Killian’s hand and kicked him in the stomach.  Killian grunted, snatching his hand to cradle it against his chest, but he continued gazing up at Emma, a smile back on his face.

“You’re a… hell of a partner,” he rasped, still grinning.  “Sorry I couldn’t be… better backup…”

Something clicked just then, something she had missed entirely.  With all the chaos, the terror, events spiraling out of control, she’d completely forgotten the tiny pistol tucked into the back of her pants.  She’d worn it pretty consistently since they left Switzerland, she didn’t even feel it anymore.  The guards hadn’t really frisked her that well, concentrating on her computer and the obvious weapon that had been strapped to her side.

The gun was still there, comfortably snug against the top of her pants.

“I’m not doing it,” she grinned at Killian, and his smile widened.

Emma waited until Gold turned back to Killian, waited until the first strike of his cane fell on Killian’s bruised and battered side, before she slid her hand behind her back slowly, eyeing the guards carefully.  They weren’t watching her, all three pairs of eyes intent on the beating instead.  She ignored Killian’s hoarse groans, forcing herself to _focus_.  Ever so slowly, she slipped the gun from her pants, flicking off the safety and cocking it as quietly as she could.

Before anyone could react, she whipped out the weapon, aimed it at the guard beside Killian, and pulled the trigger.  The man fell back with a short cry, likely dead before he hit the deck.  She didn’t wait to find out.  Her arm still in motion, she pointed the gun at the guard beside her, the bullet going straight into his temple, and she was momentarily grateful he released his grip on her arm before he fell over.

In the surprise of her attack, Liam had managed to break free of his captor.  He twisted around, punched the third guard in the neck and then across the face, a crunch of bone as his fist struck the other man’s cheek.  The guard went down and didn’t move.

Emma held her gun out, aimed straight at Gold.  He looked around, confused for a second, but then flashed her a wide smile.  “Get away from him,” she growled, before he had a chance to speak.  “Drop your cane.”

The bloodied wooden walking stick fell to the deck as Gold raised his hands in surrender.  He took two steps backwards, and tripped on the body of one of the fallen guards, landing hard on his back with a quiet grunt.  

Emma glanced over at Liam.  He’d picked up one of the weapons from the disabled guard, trained it on Gold.  He looked at her, pain and anger clear in his eyes, something she now understood just a little too well.

“Go help Killian,” he said quietly.  She nodded, switched on the safety, and pocketed her gun, making her way across the deck to the fallen Jones.

Killian’s face was covered in blood, a dark bruise just starting to swell along the left side of his face as he lay there.  His breaths were short, shaky, a rattling sound on each inhale.  She was afraid to touch him, afraid to move him, fearing the damage.

His eyes slid open as she crouched beside him slowly.  “Hey, beautiful,” he whispered with a wink, _his_ wink, a slow grin creeping across his face.

She smiled back.  “Hey.”

“You’re a… bloody hero… Emma,” he murmured, pausing for air, his eyebrows creased in pain.

“So are you,” she said gently.

“You saved me,” Killian shook his head weakly.  “Saved all of us.”

“Like you said in Switzerland, never go in without backup,” she smiled.

He grunted just then, reaching out to push himself up.  “Little help?” he muttered.  She held his elbow and helped raise him to sit up, his back against the wall of the boat.  He looked around the deck, eyeing the dead guards, the fallen Gold who remained on the floor, hands raised as Liam kept his gun trained on him.

“You really _can_ handle a weapon, love,” Killian murmured, flashing her a small grin.  He tried to use his feet to stand up, his hand gripping her arm tightly.

“You need an ambulance, Killian,” she admonished.  “I don’t think you should be moving.”

“I just…” he started, breaking off with a wince.  “I will, I’ll go to the hospital, Emma, I promise.  I just want to get off this boat.”

He looked at her, his eyes full of pain, but she knew it wasn’t just the physical pain.  The mission that started five years ago on another continent, the mission that took so much of his life from him, was finally over.  She was sure the virus had done its job by now, the program was utterly destroyed.  And Gold was being guarded by Liam, who had nothing else to trade, nothing to gain by betraying them now, even though she didn’t think he would, not anymore.  It was finished, over, and Killian just wanted to start putting it all behind him.

Without another word, she held his arm, pulled it across her shoulders, and helped him stand.  He was trembling as he leaned against her, she could feel each burst of air in his chest as he gasped, trying to breath evenly.  But he stood, though he let her hold far more of his weight than she would have liked.

They started to make their way to the ramp, toward the docks, when Liam called out.

“Killian.”

Killian stopped, turning slightly to face his brother.  He didn’t look angry anymore, just… tired.  “What is it?” he asked.

Liam swallowed, his gun still pointed at Gold.  “I’m sorry, Killian.  For all of this.  I hope you can forgive me, one day.  I hope you don’t hate me.”

Killian sighed softly, and she could see tears forming at the edges of his eyes.  “I don’t hate you,” he said quietly.  “But… I need some time, yeah?”

His brother nodded.

“Clean up your mess, Liam,” Killian murmured, starting to turn away again.  “We’ll talk later.”

Emma saw the movement from Gold before anyone else, had her gun out, safety off, hammer pulled back, before either of the brothers could make a move.  Gold had one of the guns from the fallen guards, raised it up while Killian and Liam spoke, aimed straight at Killian.  Emma pulled the trigger on her small pistol.  Gold’s head snapped back with the force of her bullet, a neat hole in the centre of his forehead as he collapsed backwards.

But not before she heard the sharp report from Gold’s gun, felt Killian rock back, his full weight suddenly dragging her shoulders, pulling her down as he fell to the deck.

Emma twisted against him, Killian’s arm falling heavily to the floor as she sat over him.  She didn’t hear Liam’s shout as he raced over, didn’t hear his panicked voice calling for his brother, didn’t notice anything at all.

All she could see was Killian, lying completely still on the wooden floor, as blood slowly pooled under him from a fresh gunshot wound at his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews? Comments? Any famous person (living or dead) that you'd love to have a lunch date with?


	10. Count to Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finished! Here you go! Thank you, everyone, for sticking with me on this awesome and wild ride! I really enjoyed dreaming up this story, and had a great time writing it, but all good things must come to an end. I hope this helps close things off, I know I left it a little... uh... uncertain? last chapter. Please let me know what you think, reviews feed my soul.

A rhythmic beeping woke him, pulling him slowly from under the thick weight of sleep.  There was something on his cheeks, rubbery plastic covering his mouth and nose, a steady puff of cool air across his face.  He blinked his eyes open, the lights low in the room but still too bright, cutting straight into his eyes, setting off a pulsing beat of pain against the inside of his head.

“One second, I’ll get that,” he heard someone say quietly.  He waited, the heaviness of sleep trying to tug him back under.  A click from somewhere on his right, and when he opened his eyes again, the room was darker, only a soft glow lighting the area around his bed.

He looked around slowly, trying to find the source of the beeping that persisted despite the new darkness.  Monitors of all kinds, computers with tubes, wires, electric leads, were on his left, numbers, letters, flashing across the screen, but he didn’t have enough energy to try and decipher them.

“Welcome back,” the same quiet voice said, from the other side.  He turned his head, wincing at the pain that flared through his skull with the movement.

She stood next to the bed, worry creasing her eyebrows, green eyes wide, framed in the long blonde waves of her hair.  She flashed him a quick grin, but her eyes didn’t smile.

“Do you know where you are?” she asked gently.

His eyes flicked around the room, leaving his head where it lay in case the pounding decided to start up again if he moved it.  Medical charts hung on the walls, buttons on the side rails of the bed, his legs covered by a scratchy blanket he could feel under his right hand, a clip on his first finger pinching ever so slightly.  There was a second bed in the room, just behind her, the sheets rumpled as if someone had slept on it, but there was no sign of another patient.  Definitely a hospital, he knew but he couldn’t tell which.

“Try an easier one, maybe?” she said when he didn’t answer.  “Do you know who I am?”

He stared at her a beat, struggled to find the word, shape it with his mouth, push out the air to give it sound.

“Emma,” he breathed into the mask.

She smiled, and this time it reached her eyes, and he couldn’t help the way his lips twitched up in a smile of his own beneath the oxygen mask.

“Good,” she grinned.  “Good.”

His eyelids started to fall on their own as he fought a losing battle against the sleep his body desperately needed.  He wanted to ask her so many questions, wanted to know what happened, how he got here, everything he couldn’t remember just then, but no sound came to his lips.

“Just sleep, Killian,” she murmured at his side.  “You need to sleep.”

He managed a small nod, his eyebrows furrowing as a spike of pain lanced through his head again.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was forgetting something - _someone -_ important.

“I’ll be here when you wake up,” Emma said quietly.  Her fingers touched his palm, her hand sliding under his on the bed.  His hand closed around hers, warm, solid, familiar.

He slept.

* * *

When he next woke up, Killian first noticed the lack of the uncomfortable mask on his face, replaced by a thin cannula that blew air into his nose.  His head still hurt, though thankfully not as badly as before, and he could feel a bandage taped to his left temple, the edges of the tape pulling as he moved his eyebrows.

The head of the bed was slightly elevated and he could make out the St Vincent’s Hospital logo on the charts on the wall.  Still in Sydney, then.  He didn’t really think he’d been transported all the way home, not with the way he felt.  Everything hurt, at least across his left shoulder and back.  His left arm was wrapped against his side, a bandage looped tightly around his chest and covering his entire shoulder.  It felt much worse than it had just after he’d been shot, each breath he took felt as if his ribs were stretching too far, and the sharp pain on each inhale convinced him not to try to breathe too deeply for the time being.

For a minute he couldn’t figure out _why_ it hurt so much, whether his condition had gotten worse without him noticing, but then everything came rushing back, everything from Gold’s boat, the beating, the code-

He gasped, the force of the memories washing over him, and it took every bit of strength he had not to cry out from the resulting pain in his chest, his shoulder throbbing worst of all.

But Emma noticed anyway.

“You okay?” she asked, moving closer to the head of the bed.

Killian let out the air in a slow breath, wincing as he looked up at her.  “I hope so,” he mumbled, grateful his voice worked, though it was hoarse and cost him too much effort to talk for long.

“If you need more pain medicine, the nurses said to just ask,” she offered hesitantly.

He gave her a small grin.  “I think I can manage, for now.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled back anyway.

“What happened?” he asked quietly.  “I don’t really remember much, after you helped me up.”

“You got shot,” Emma shrugged, avoiding his eyes.  “Gold grabbed a gun and shot you.”

“Is he…”  Killian didn’t really know how to finish that question, unsure he wanted to know if the man who’d featured so prominently in his nightmares for years was still free.

But Emma shook her head.  “He’s dead.  And you almost were, too.  Bullet bounced off the side of your head.  You have a concussion, lost a lot of blood, but you’ll be okay, as long as you take it easy for a while.”  She finally looked at him, but her eyes were guarded, wary, though she tried to smile.  “You really are a survivor, turns out.”

He grinned, but it fell after a moment.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She sighed, looking away, but didn’t answer for a long beat.  He wondered what else happened, what he’d missed while he was unconscious.  She hadn’t avoided him, before.  She hadn’t acted this… distant, before.  Why was she pulling away now?

“He almost killed you, Killian,” she finally said, her voice quiet.  “I was too slow, it was just _luck_ that he didn’t have better aim.”

“Emma,” he whispered.  “You couldn’t ha-”

“And he hurt you,” she continued, as if he hadn’t said anything.  “I had to watch him do that to you, and I couldn’t do anything about it.  You have four broken ribs and a broken collarbone, all because I froze up.”

He reached out his hand, the pulse-ox clip still firmly attached to his index finger, and laid it on her arm.

“Emma.”

She didn’t look at him.

“You’re the hero,” he said gently, “no matter what else happened.  You didn’t give into Gold, and nobody will be able to use the system to kill any more agents.  You saved them, Emma, that was all you.  I was wrong about you, when we first met.  You’re a hell of an agent.”

She met his eyes slowly, and he smiled sadly.  “Besides, if anyone messed up back there, it was me.”

Emma opened her mouth, but he squeezed her arm instead, gathering enough strength to finish telling her what he knew he needed to say, what she needed to hear.

“I should have told you everything,” he said, his voice quiet, trying to put as much of the sincerity he felt into each word.  “I should have told you about what Gold had done to me, to us, I shouldn’t have kept it from you, especially when things started going wrong.”

“I understand why you didn’t,” she murmured.  “It’s okay.”

Killian shook his head, ignoring the spike in his headache with the movement.  “It wasn’t okay, I was afraid, afraid to let you know, to let you think I was weak, I was afraid of Gold and I didn’t want that same fear to affect you, too.  I was just… afraid, but that’s no excuse.  I’m sorry, Emma.”

She nodded, then let a slow smile creep across her lips.  “You’re not hiding anything else about this case, right?  Nothing else I should know about before we go home?”

He grinned.  “Nothing else.”

“Good,” she said.  “No more secrets.”

She stepped back, settling in the armchair that was pulled close to his bed, and he watched as she made herself comfortable, tucking her legs up under her on the thin cushion.

 _Go home_ , she’d said.  Home.  Him to England, her to America.

He felt a pang jolt through him that had nothing to do with with his battered side, and everything to do with the thought of not seeing her ever again.  Would they _ever_ have a reason to work together in the future?  Was this… it?  She would go back to America, back to her computer job for the CIA, and he’d be lucky to keep his at MI6 with everything that happened, but with an entire ocean in between them, this was a likely goodbye for them.

And Killian realised that he didn’t want her to go.

After five years of failed partners, after five years of pushing people away, keeping himself so completely isolated from those around him, he didn’t want her to leave.  Emma had pushed back in her own stubborn way, managed to find her way past his defenses, and he’d let her in.  Gold had been right about that, on the ship.  He cared about her, but more than that, he _trusted_ her, so fully and completely that he couldn’t picture working with someone else who _wasn’t_ her, and he didn’t know what to do now that she was leaving.

But he had no idea if she felt the same way about him.  For all he knew, she couldn’t wait to get away from him, to get rid of her memories at the mission that had gone totally off the rails with his own personal secrets and lies, to never think of him or their assignment again.  He was almost afraid to find out just how badly she wanted nothing more to do with him.

He couldn’t believe that was true, though, not entirely, not with the way she’d stuck with him throughout everything.  Surely she had to care about him, to _some_ degree, to have stayed and helped him through it all, right?  But if she left…

“Why are you still here, love?” he asked finally, curiosity winning out over his worries.  “I’d have thought your captain would have wanted you back to report by now.”

Emma shrugged, looking comfortably snug in the chair, a light blanket spread across her legs.  “He mentioned as much.  But someone had to make sure you stayed out of trouble.”  She grinned at him.  “He wasn’t happy, to be honest, but I wasn’t just going to let you wake up here all alone.  Not after…”  She waved her hand vaguely.  “You know.  We’ll go back together, when you’re ready.”

He just stared at her, momentarily lost for words.

“If that’s okay with you,” she added hurriedly, sitting up straighter.  “I mean, if you don’t want me-”

“No, no,” Killian said quickly.  “It’s fine, it’s _more_ than fine, I just…”  He swallowed.  “Thank you.”

The last words came out thicker than he’d intended, but she pretended not to notice.

“They got the bullet out, by the way,” she said, changing the topic, and he was glad she did.  “Somehow it was lodged just under the top of your shoulder blade, which had a hairline fracture through it.  Just missed the lung, but broke two ribs on the way in.”

He winced apologetically.  He had been pretty sure the bullet was somewhere near the shoulder joint - moving his fingers once feeling had returned was difficult but not impossible, while _any_ shifting of his upper arm had been more pain than it was worth.  “That must be why it hurts when I laugh,” he grunted.

Emma shook her head, smiling.  “You really are a terrible patient.  At least someone _else_ has to be the one to deal you for a while.”

He smirked, closing his eyes to rest for a moment.  Being awake was draining, he decided.  He was certain the hospital had given him some painkillers, he didn’t feel quite as beaten up as he knew he should, but his ribs, his back, his head, everything still hurt, an ever-present throb along with the constant whisper of air through the cannula at his lip.

“He stayed, you know,” she said softly, and for a second Killian wondered who she meant.  But only for a second.  “He waited until after you came out of surgery, until you were stable, before he left.”

Killian didn’t say anything, his eyes still closed.  Couldn’t say anything if he wanted to, not with the lump that had taken up residence in his throat.  He didn’t really think Liam had abandoned him, left him behind, not after everything.  But he would have liked to see him.

“He went back to London,” she continued.  “He went back to turn himself in.”

He looked up at her at that, too quickly for the headache still pounding in his skull, but he ignored it once again.  Liam went back, he owned up to everything.  Killian knew Liam would be fired for sure, if not court martialled and sentenced to prison as well.  But he was willing to admit what he did - to others, not just Killian - and to take whatever consequences were dealt him, without Killian even asking him to, and that meant… well, everything.

Emma pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket, crumpled slightly at the edges, and held it out.  “He left this,” she said quietly.  “He explained a little bit of what happened, but he wanted you to read this.”

Killian swallowed hard.  He wanted nothing more than to forgive Liam, to put everything behind him, to get back the brother he knew would always have his best interests in mind, who’d always put him first.  But everything changed, and he needed some time to _think_.  Liam had been his hero, the man who could do no wrong.  Killian had fallen just short of that heroism, in his own estimation, and, while it gave him a goal to work toward, it also gave him someone to emulate, to try to be like, especially after the mess of their childhood and the loss of both their parents.  He _needed_ Liam, not just to be there for him, but to be someone he could look up to.

And knowing now what Liam had done - even only to protect him - Killian needed to reevaluate, to a large degree, who _he_ was.  Liam had been everything, and that image was now forever altered.  Killian loved his brother, he knew that would never change, but he wasn’t sure how to relate to him, not right now.

He shook his head slowly.  “I can’t… not yet,” he murmured quietly.

“Okay,” Emma nodded, placing the paper on the small side table.  “It’ll be here when you’re ready.  Just…”  She broke off, chewing her lip nervously.  She thought for a moment, then fixed Killian with a look of pain he wasn’t prepared to see in her eyes.

“Just go easy on him, okay?” she said quietly.  “I wasn’t there in Kabul, but… I know what it’s like, what he went through, a little bit anyway.  He made the wrong call, sure, but he only did it because he loves you very much and he couldn’t stand to see you hurting like that.  He knows what he did was wrong, but he wasn’t really given much of a fair choice.”

Killian couldn’t control the tears that welled in his eyes as he looked at her, seeing a mirror of his own fears and concerns looking back at him in her green eyes.  She understood Liam because she was thrown into his exact situation, and he’d been selfish enough to think only of himself and his ordeal the entire time, what he wanted to think he would have done had everything been reversed.  It was so easy, he realised, to decide what Liam _should_ have done, but seeing it through her eyes made him really _see_ how much his brother had been tortured as well, though he had no scars to prove it.  And she wasn’t blaming him for putting her in that position, far from it.  She was trying to help him understand his brother, to forgive him.

And, as he’d been afraid to hope, she _did_ care about him, she _had_ to, to think her situation on Gold’s boat was similar to Liam’s, that it hurt her to watch him in pain, too.

He blinked harshly, clearing his throat.  “Can you… please… can you read me his letter?  I don’t think I can.”   _I can’t do it on my own, I can’t understand him like you can, I can’t hear his voice in my head while reading it,_ he wanted to tell her.

But he was pretty sure she understood anyway.

Emma nodded and picked up the letter.  She unfolded it, holding it in one hand as she reached over and held onto Killian’s right hand in the other.  Squeezing gently, she began to read, her voice quiet, unwavering.

> _Killian,_
> 
> _I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done, but especially for hiding it all these years, for all the pain I could never truly erase from your eyes every time you thought of Milah.  I could have saved both of us a great deal of pain back then, I could have told him right away, spared you torture and her death, but I didn’t, I tried to do the right thing, and I’ve never regretted it more._
> 
> _I broke that day in Kabul, Gold broke me, though he couldn’t break you no matter what he tried.  I spent three days watching them hurt you, tending your wounds as you drifted in and out of consciousness, listening to your screams, screams that haunt me even today, every time I fall asleep.  I stayed quiet because you begged me to, and if they were going to kill you, at least I’d find a way to honour your dying wish._
> 
> _But when he killed Milah, when I watched you fall apart, I couldn’t do it anymore, I couldn’t stay quiet.  I was weak, I was selfish, I couldn’t fathom losing you the way you’d just lost her, and I told Gold everything.  He’s the one who arranged the extraction to the local army base, which was where you woke up.  It was all part of the deal to get him the code, and to make sure you wouldn’t find out what I’d done, and I’ve hidden it ever since._
> 
> _I’m not like you, Killian.  I’m not strong enough to always do the right thing, especially not when you’re involved.  Yes, I didn’t want you on this mission, I didn’t want you finding out what really happened, but also, I didn’t want to see you in pain, facing Gold again after all these years, after everything he did to you, everything he took from you._
> 
> _In a way, though, I’m glad you know, even if it means you’ll never forgive me, even if it means I’ve lost your trust forever.  I’m glad you’ve found out my weaknesses, if only to get you to stop trying to measure up to me.  I’m not a hero, Killian, I don’t deserve your admiration.  You are, you’ve always been.  You’ve done the impossible, you’ve stayed strong and true to all that we swore to protect despite everything you went through, and you didn’t have to sell your soul to do it.  You’re my hero, Killian, and I’ve always looked up to you for that._
> 
> _I’ll probably be unable to contact you for a while.  I’m giving myself in for all the deaths I’ve caused.  It doesn’t matter that it was secondhand, their blood is still on my head.  I’m telling them everything, including what happened there in Sydney.  See, when you first got shot, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to get you out of there, off the mission, and toss the whole thing.  But you refused to leave.  And then Emma turned out to be a much better hacker than I’d anticipated.  She figured everything out, without knowing very much about us.  Going to Gold was the only way I could think of to get you to leave the case, I was certain you’d leave to save my life._
> 
> _But you found a way around that, and I’m glad you did.  I’m glad you know, I’m glad it’s over, and I’m glad I can stop lying to you and show you who I really am, how weak I’ve been._
> 
> _I’ll be court-martialed and stripped of my position, probably have some jail time on top of that.  But it’s good, it’s what I deserve, and I’ll accept it because it’s what’s right, and it’s what you would do.  The honourable thing, good form, all that.  I hope to have the chance to see you at some point, if you’ll let me, if you don’t hate me after all this.  I hope to tell you in person how much I love you, but in case I don’t, just know that no matter what, I’m proud of you._
> 
> _With all my heart,_
> 
> _Liam_

Emma finished reading and put the letter back on the table, but Killian didn’t see it, didn’t see anything.  His eyes were closed as he lay against the pillow, tears streaming unchecked down his face.  Her hand was still holding tightly to his, and he gripped her fingers as hard as he could, the only lifeline he could find in the aftermath of the storm that tried to undo him.

All this time.  All this time, he’d thought himself a failure in Liam’s eyes, weak, undeserving, by his own assessment.  All this time, he’d been sure Liam hadn’t trusted him, hadn’t respected him enough, after seeing him so thoroughly destroyed five years ago.

But all this time, Liam had been _proud_ of him, looked up to _him_ , valued his strength and unwavering determination he so often dismissed as stubbornness when he was frustrated.  And he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Give it time,” Emma whispered at his side, both her hands holding onto his fingers.  “You don’t have to decide anything now.”

Killian nodded, the only thing he could do.  Exhaustion crashed over him, whether physical or emotional, it didn’t really matter.  He waited until he’d calmed down somewhat, until the threat of further breakdown had passed, before he opened his eyes, her face shimmering through remaining tears.

“Can you stay?” he asked quietly, his voice even more hoarse than before.  “With me?  Just until I fall asleep, please?”

She nodded, her smile as gentle as her fingers against his skin.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

Killian closed his eyes and fell asleep, his hand still clutching Emma’s tightly.

* * *

Hours later, well past midnight, he woke to a cheerful nurse strapping a blood pressure cuff around his arm.  Emma was sleeping quietly on the other bed, and he was glad she decided to get some rest in something besides the uncomfortable chair.  The nurse briefly checked his bandages, took his temperature, and other readings he was too tired to pay attention.

But just before she finished, Killian asked for some stronger medication, the shooting pains in his head and chest too strong to ignore anymore.  She smiled and brought back a syringe, which she injected straight into his IV.  

He fell back asleep almost immediately, with less pain than he’d felt in years.

* * *

Ten days later, Killian walked down the northeast steps of the MI6 headquarters in London toward the courtyard at the edge of the river, careful to take them slower than he normally would have.  Each step still jostled his shoulder despite the sling he wore, sending a dull ache through his chest and arm, but he’d been off of the heavy painkillers for three days and his wounds were already so much better.  He looked up as his foot touched the ground, smiling broadly for the woman standing at the bottom, waiting for him.

Emma smiled back.

“Didn’t think I’d get to see you again before you ship off to the colonies,” he said, hoping his eyes didn’t betray how truly glad he was to see her, and how much he didn’t want this to be their goodbye.

They’d talked during his ‘incarceration’ in the Sydney hospital, as he’d grumpily called it on more than one occasion.  They’d gotten to know each other a little better, while steering clear of most of the heavy topics they both didn’t feel ready to discuss, and he found he enjoyed spending time with her - not as partners, just… them.  An infection in the original entry wound had kept him bedridden for longer than he wanted, but she never complained (though his extremely vocal complaints definitely made up for that), and she was far more patient with him than he was sure he deserved.  They’d come straight to the SIS complex from the airport - her Captain Nolan was in England on business anyway and he’d conducted her debriefing just down the hall from Killian’s.

“Not getting rid of me that easily, Agent Jones,” she countered easily.  “You’re stuck with me for a few more weeks, actually.”

“Why?” he asked worriedly.  “Is everything all right with-”

She laughed.  “Everything’s fine, Killian.  Captain Nolan put me on extended leave for a few weeks, to kind of catch my breath after this assignment.  He also wants me to talk to a therapist when I get back, make sure I’m healthy enough to return for duty, but the guy he wants me to see is out of town until next month.  So he put me up at a hotel here for a while longer.”

“Oh.”  He wasn’t sure what he’d hoped, or thought, when she was there waiting for him.  She didn’t seem the type to just run back home without saying goodbye, not after everything they’d been through together.

 _Together_.

He liked the sound of that word, liked imagining working with her on a future case, especially one less personal for him.  He hadn’t had a steady partner in years, to think that maybe…

“Is that okay?” she asked, her voice hesitant.  “I mean, if you don’t want me to-”

“No,” he said quickly, his smile back in place.  “No, of course it’s fine.  I’m glad to see you again, after so long.  It’s been, what, five hours now?  Ages if you ask -ow!”

She punched him lightly on the arm - his right one, thankfully.  “Anyway,” she continued, rolling her eyes just a little.  “I was looking to hire a tour guide, I never really got to see London on my last trip here.  Know anyone who can help?”

Killian grinned. He'd been put on medical leave - minimum two weeks pending evaluation - until he regained some of the strength in his arm, and Major Mills had made it clear that he'd better stick with the physical therapy this time or he wouldn't be allowed back. He thought he would dread the time away from work, with nothing to do, but fate clearly had other plans.

“I think I can find someone who knows their way around.”  He pointed toward the courtyard beside the river flowing noisily just a few metres away.  “There are some benches near the edge of the Thames, if you’d want to get a better look.”

They walked over to one of the wooden benches near the edge of the embankment.  He winced a little as he settled on the wood, and she flashed him a concerned look, but he just grinned and shook his head.  He pointed out some of the landmarks they could see from where they sat - Millbank Tower, Thames house, even Big Ben a ways north, which she could see without squinting in the quickly fading sunlight.

After a while, they sat in silence, listening to the gentle splashing of water on wood, the sound of traffic over the bridge nearby, their hands grasping onto each other’s automatically, as if neither of them wanted to let go.

“I didn’t get to see him,” Killian said quietly.  “Major Mills said he’s pretty busy, but she’d try to arrange a meeting with him later in the week.”  He’d been both relieved and disappointed not to have seen his brother, but he wasn’t sure he was really ready to face him yet, he still needed a little bit more time.

He felt Emma’s hand tighten around his.  “Good,” she murmured.

“She also mentioned a permanent British-American task force she and Captain Nolan have been working on,” he continued, careful to keep the hope from his voice.  “She wanted to know if I’d be interested.  Did he say anything to you?”

She smiled, her gaze still focused out on the water.  “He mentioned it.”

Killian waited, but he didn’t continue.  He’d jumped at the chance, when the major had outlined the basic idea, requesting to work with Emma immediately, but he hadn’t figured she might not be interested in the adventurous life he led.  Maybe field work wasn’t something she wanted to do, despite her clear ability to think rationally and act under pressure.  Maybe he’d been too hasty in volunteering, maybe he should have discussed it with her fir-

“I said sure,” Emma said, turning to face him, pink spots of colour on her cheek that had nothing to do with the light chill in the air.  “Asked if you were available to work with.  If that’s something you’d want to do, I mean.  I’m still pretty new at this whole field thing, I didn’t know if you wanted a rookie working with you.”

He laughed at that, relief flooding through him.  “I also said yes,” he admitted with a smile.  “And I requested to work with you, as well.  Despite everything else, I think we make quite the team.”

She grinned.  “I guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of you, Killian.”

“Not much more to see,” he shrugged one-armed.  “I’m pretty sure you’ve seen all my scars.”

“You’re _sure_ you aren’t hiding any more secrets?” she asked, her eyebrow arched inquisitively.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Killian winked.

“I think I would,” she said, squeezing his hand briefly.

“And I, you,” he replied sincerely, squeezing hers back.  “Thank you, Emma.  For everything.  I wouldn’t have survived this if you hadn’t been there.  You…”  He blinked quickly, his smile wavering as he fought for control.

“You saved me,” he said simply.  She hadn’t just rescued the mission from near disaster, she hadn’t just spare him from the full extent of Gold’s wrath, she hadn’t just helped him through his fear and worry and subsequent hospitalisation.  She had truly saved him, in every sense of the word, and he only hoped he could one day repay her for everything she had done for him.

Emma nodded slowly, then grinned again.  “Just don’t make it a habit, okay?  Now that we’ll be working together?”

 _Together_.

Yeah, he was pretty sure he could easily get used to that idea.

“Deal,” he agreed.

They sat there for a few more minutes, their hands and thoughts entwined as the noise of the world continued unnoticed around them.  The wind picked up after a time, the sun just starting to set behind the buildings to the west, and he realised she was shivering slightly.

“We should go somewhere warmer,” he offered, slowly getting to his feet.  “Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Sure,” she said as she stood.  “Surprise me?”

Killian quickly went through a list of places he thought she might like, and only one came to mind, a small pub he’d gone to a number of times on the north shore.

“I know a place,” he grinned.  “You ready?”

Emma smiled.  “Always.”

Still holding hands, neither daring to let go, they left the small courtyard and headed toward the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews? Comments? Favourite stories I should read now that this is finished consuming my life?


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